


Turn Away From Evil

by TwoBoys2Love



Category: Supernatural AU
Genre: M/M, Rating:NC17, Warning:Suicide, artist:twoboys2love, challenge:spn_cinema, genre:au, kink:blasphemy, kink:first kiss, kink:priest!sam, occupation:detective, occupation:priest, pairing:sam wesson/dean winchester, position:bottom!dean, supernatural:clairvoyant, supernatural:demon, title:turn away from evil, warning:deceased infant, warning:description of dead body, warning:description rotting flesh, warning:mentions rape, warning:non canon character death, warning:spousal abuse, warning:violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoBoys2Love/pseuds/TwoBoys2Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the film "Deliver Us From Evil" which is based on a true story. New York police officer Dean Winchester investigates a series of crimes. He and his partner, Jody Mills, join forces with an unconventional priest (Sam Wesson), schooled in the rites of exorcism, to combat the possessions that are terrorizing their city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Away From Evil

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Deliver Us From Evil](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/141815) by Scott Derrickson. 



It was the static on Detective Dean Winchester's radio that made him cast his gaze downward. That was when he had seen the dirty, yellow baby blanket.

"Fuck." The bad feeling crept up his spine again and he stood there in the rain for a while. Dean had been on the force long enough to know that no good could come from being called out in the middle of a thunderstorm to check out a potentially abandoned infant in a dark alley. The whole thing had _fucked up_ stamped all over it.

Dean ran his hand over his short, wet hair then massaged the ache in the back of his neck. Putting things off had never made them any better.

Something caught Dean's eye as he looked around. A splash of color that was partially visible. When he got closer he could see that it was the silk corner of a blanket. The rest of it was obscured by the beat-up old dumpster that was pushed up against the wall.

Dean approached the dumpster slowly and crouched down by the blanket. when the rest of the blanket became visible Dean could see that it was in the shape of a small bundle.

"Awww, shit," he murmured.

More flashing lights appeared at the far end of the alley and Dean could hear the voices of the other cops who were searching in the distance.

He turned his gaze back to the small bundle once more and slid his hands underneath it. When he lifted it the bundle was much lighter than he expected.

With dread weighing heavily on his shoulders, Dean sat back on his heels. As gently as possible he peeled the first layer of the blanket back. A tiny face was revealed bit by bit and Dean felt the sting of bile in the back of his throat. The baby's skin was dark and mottled. Its eyes were partially open and its blue lips were parted slightly.

It was _so_ very wrong and horrifying that Dean had found a child so tiny and ... completely lifeless.

For a second or two Dean thought he was going to throw up. Then anger began a slow, hot burn in the pit of his stomach.

He couldn't begin to imagine what kind of sick fuck would be responsible for snuffing out such a young life. The thought of it made his hands shake.

Even though his legs were aching Dean covered the baby's face again with the blanket and sat there holding it. Procedure dictated that he call his partner and let her know what he'd found. But there was no way he could put the small bundle back down on the cold, filthy concrete. It wasn't right.

Thirteen years as a Detective with five years in special ops wearing plain clothes and he'd never seen anything before that had made him feel like it was absolute proof that some humans were monsters.

The rain began to slow a little and Dean tilted his head back long enough to let raindrops wet his lips. It was cool on his skin and he licked the rain away.

"I'm so sorry," Dean whispered to the small bundle in his arms. His shoulders fell and he sat there staring down at the soiled blanket.

"Detective?" His colleagues must have seen him there.

The voice sounded distorted to Dean; it was as though there were a million miles between him and the person who was speaking.

"Detective, let us take the body."

The voice finally became clear and Dean turned to see an EMT reaching out for the bundle.

Dean nodded, looked down at the blanket then smoothed it down. He turned slightly on aching legs and held out the baby to the man crouched beside him.

After he'd handed over the child it took Dean a while to realize that he was still crouched on the damp ground.

"Hey. Do I have to help you up or can you manage on your own?"

The sound of his partner Jody Mills' voice made Dean feel a little less defeated. He reached back for the hand he knew would be extended behind him.

Jody's grasp was warm and dry and Dean hauled himself up. He wasn't sure how long he'd been down there but his muscles were pissed off at him. When he let go of Jody's hand he had to bend over slightly to rub at his thighs.

The EMT moved off towards the ambulance and Dean let his head hang for a few moments.

"You know, Winchester, there was nothing you could do," Jody said gently.

Nodding, Dean straightened up slowly. "I know."

"Yeah, but I've seen that look on your face before." Jody pulled her short leather jacket a little tighter against the cold air.

Dean reached out and squeezed his partner's shoulder. "I'm fine. I promise, Mills."

Jody looked skeptical for a while and then nodded. "Let's get out of here. It's horrible..."

It _was_ horrible and Dean really wanted to get away from the alley. The problem was that he already knew that the images of the evening would stick with him for a long time.

This was how the darkness built up inside him: one horrible, evil image at a time.

-=-=-=-

The purr of the Impala always took the rough edges off Dean's nerves. It was one of the best parts about being an undercover Detective. He and Jody could use whatever wheels they wanted. Jody's Subaru was okay but it wasn't even half the car that Dean's Impala was.

"You didn't even notice that I cut my hair," Jody said after about half an hour of comfortable silence.

Dean glanced over at his partner. Her hair was still a mousey brown color but it _was_ a lot shorter.

"I apologize, Princess. Your new hair style is lovely." Smirk firmly entrenched on his face, Dean turned his attention back to the road ahead.

Jody fiddled with her phone for a few moments before looking over at Dean. "You look at me more than anyone else in your life. You'd think you might notice when I cut six inches of hair off."

"You getting all girly on me, Mills?" One of the things that Dean most liked about his partner was that she could fit in anywhere. He'd seen her head down a manhole to emerge half an hour later covered in sewage. And he'd seen her in a long dress and heels at the Department’s holiday party. She was a pretty amazing woman.

"No more girly than you, Winchester." Jody grinned and reached over to shove her partner's shoulder.

The radios in the car holder hissed to life and the Dispatcher described a domestic call.

A frown slid on to Dean's face. His vision flickered slightly and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Static burst out of the radios and Dean flinched. He was getting annoyed with the radio; he kept forgetting to trade it in for one that worked properly.

"Ask for more info," Dean said.

Jody's eyes snapped over to her partner's face as she picked up her radio off the holder. "Your radar goin' off there, bud? I love it when that happens."

Dean rolled his eyes and smiled slightly.

Jody clicked the button on the side of her radio. "Adam 1030 requesting background information."

There was another burst of static. "That's starting to piss me off."

"What?" Jody looked around the car until the radio engaged again.

The dispatcher's voice was lost in the crackling for a while then emerged more clearly. "... complainant Ruby calling regarding husband, Dick Roman. Alleged domestic violence."

"A domestic isn't usually in our wheelhouse," Jody said as Dean accepted the address into the GPS.

"Tell 'em we'll take it." Dean's spine felt as though cold water was trickling down it. He shrugged his shoulders and sat forward a little.

The Dispatcher's voice interrupted once more. "Roman is a retired Marine."

"I _knew_ it," Kim said happily. "Radar." She radioed in and accepted the call then hooked her radio on her belt.

"Only a couple of minutes away," Dean murmured.

"You know what this means?" Jody pulled her leather jacket on.

"What?"

" _Every_ damn time your radar goes off you end up with stitches."

When Dean looked over at his partner she looked absolutely delighted.

"Without me how would you get your adrenaline hit, Mills?" Another quality Dean admired in his partner was how much she loved her job. And she liked to throw down with troublemakers. Dean usually just stood back and watched. There was something _very_ satisfying about watching burly assholes get taken down a notch by his tall, slender partner.

The GPS beeped and Dean checked the house number once more before pulling over to park near a small, brick apartment building. "Let's do this."

They climbed out of the car quickly and headed up the steps. There was no lock on the door so they went in quietly.

"Second floor," Dean said quietly.

The only sound in the stairwell was the echo of their footfalls. It was so silent it was eerie.

When they arrived at the door to the Romans’ apartment Dean nodded at his partner and stepped back as she knocked on the door.

The sound of footsteps on the other side of the door made Dean widen his stance.

As the door swung open slowly, a pale face appeared. The door moved open further and a tall man stood in front of the two detectives. He was shirtless, looking a little sweaty and there were a lot of cuts and scrapes still healing on his torso.

"You Dick Roman?" Mills stepped closer and the man gave up some ground.

"Yeah. What do you want?" Roman's voice was gravely as though he'd smoked a pack of cigarettes the night before.

The Detectives held up the badges that were hanging around their necks and Dean stepped up beside his partner. "We got a call from your wife. She said there's a problem here."

Roman narrowed his dark eyes and grabbed the door. "There's nothing wrong here so you can take off."

When Roman moved to close the door it stopped against Jody's boot. She stared Roman down. "We're going to need to see and speak to your wife, Mr. Roman."

It looked like Roman was going to try something for a few moments then he sneered and pushed the door wide open. He turned and headed down a short hallway.

It was dark in the hallway and Dean resisted the urge to reach for his gun. He concentrated on taking in everything he could see.

The hallway was dirty. There were smears of what looked like dried mud as far as Dean could see. A narrow carpet stretched down the hallway and Dean's eyes were drawn to what looked like scratch marks at the edge of it. "Watch out for a dog," Dean whispered.

Jody nodded and stepped into the living room at Dean's side. The room was only lit by the dim light coming from the big screen TV at the front of the room.

Roman stood stock still in front of the long sofa blocking someone from view.

Dean took a deep breath as adrenaline spiked in his system. "Step aside."

There was a muscle twitching in Roman's jaw and his pupils were completely dilated. His hands hung by his sides and the fingers of his right hand were twitching erratically.

Dean pressed his lips together and tilted his head slightly as he stared at Roman.

Slowly, Roman turned and moved a few steps away.

The woman on the couch was looking down at the floor. Her long, black hair was hanging down and obscuring her face.

Jody took a couple of steps forward. "Mrs. Roman? Ruby?"

When Roman's wife looked up Dean couldn't help the way his features contorted into an angry frown.

The woman's face was covered in bruises. There were tear streaks running through the blood that was smeared on her face. Her full bottom lip was split at the side and one of her eyes was almost swollen shut.

Dean heard Jody's sharp intake of breath. "Ruby..."

The trembling woman finally looked up at Dean. "He was never like this before. He. He just went crazy."

Dean's instincts took over immediately and he faced Roman and reached for his handcuffs. "You're comin' in with us, Roman."

The man sneered at Dean and his hand moved slowly behind his back. 

" _Keep_ your hands where I can see them," Dean ordered. "This can be easy or it can be hard. It's up to you but I'm happy to go with hard." Dean took a step towards Roman and held one side of the cuffs. They swung in his hand and the sound of static grated on Dean's nerves.

Without any warming Roman swung his arm around behind him then snapped it forwards.

Something cold and sharp sliced through Dean's forearm and the cuffs clattered to the floor. "Knife!"

He covered the slashed flesh and moved in front of Ruby to protect her..

Roman darted towards the hallway and Mills managed to trip him. They both stumbled down the hall and Dean lost sight of his partner. "You good?"

"Got it!" Mills called out.

Dean could hear the struggle then the door opening and thudding against the wall. Feet clattered around and Dean cast his gaze around the room for something to tie around his forearm. He spotted a reasonably clean dish towel and wrapped up his wound. Even though it hurt, Dean stretched his hand out then curled it into a fist. At least everything still worked.

He heard footsteps again and Jody appeared in the living room. "Turns out I don't got it."

Dean nodded.

"He ran liked some kind of wildcat or something. I could swear he jumped an eight foot fence." Mills shook her head in disbelief and walked over to her partner. She slid a hand under Dean's arm and then lifted the cloth.

"Not that bad," Dean muttered as his partner re-wrapped his arm.

"You're gonna need stitches," Jody said. "Told ya."

Dean could swear she was fighting off a smile. But she was right. He'd been cut enough times to know that he'd need a quick trip to the Emergency room.

Mills held out her hand and Dean yanked his keys out of the front pocket of his jeans. "Drive _carefully_."

"I'll be gentle with your baby," Mills said as she grinned. She bent down and retrieved Dean's cuffs before handing them to him. "Can't say I didn't warn ya."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean growled. The last thing he wanted to do was waste hours at the hospital and he was damned pissed off that Roman had given them the slip.

"I radioed for a bus to check Ruby. ETA three minutes."

When Dean looked over at Ruby she was wide-eyed and shaking. She was clearly terrified and Dean found himself wondering what kind of man would terrify his wife and beat her nearly senseless. It made his guts twist up. "I'll wait downstairs, send 'em up."

It was raining when Dean headed back down the front steps of the building and he turned his face up into it. Jody might be right about his radar but it hadn't been very successful.

He knew his partner was inside comforting the battered woman. Dean should be in there with her but he couldn't stand the feeling of the place.

Off in the distance Dean could hear a siren. At least Roman's wife would get some medical attention. Dean headed over to his car and leaned against the fender.

Another long _fucking_ night.

-=-=-=-

Dean had hardly managed to sleep because of the dull throb in his forearm. Twenty-seven stitches. He'd decided to let Jody drive again on their shift so he could rest his arm.

When they climbed into the car the sky had been overcast and it had just begun to rain. By the time they pulled out of the parking garage it was pouring.

Another dreary day just added to the heaviness Dean was feeling. Usually he found it pretty easy to shake off the things he saw at work. For some reason things seemed to be staying with him lately.

"You're quiet today," Jody said as she turned into one of the poorer areas of the city.

Dean sighed. He sure as hell wasn't going to say that he was still running over the last week's calls in his head. Mills would probably read him the riot act.

A lot of cops ruined themselves because they couldn't cope with the day to day realities of their work. The world was full of a lot of shit. Sure, there were some good people but what Dean and his partner saw could be pretty horrific.

"Just one of those weeks," Dean said finally. "Trouble sleepin'. Fucking stitches." He was still pretty pissed off that he'd let himself get hurt. On top of that the guy had run. Dean didn't like loose threads.

"We'll find Roman, y'know." There was a warm smile on Jody's face.

It was always reassuring to realize how well his partner knew him. "The guy was bizarre."

"Yeah he gave me a weird feeling," Jody said quietly. "His wife was released from hospital, you know. She's not gonna win a beauty contest for a while but she's okay."

"Yeah. She needs to get the hell out of there." No matter how many times Dean went to domestic calls he would never get used to the violence of it. It went against every instinct Dean had. It was the worst kind of wrong.

The radio squawked at them and Dean cringed as the static lingered in his head. His eyes widened as he listened to dispatch. The call was to the City Zoo where a woman had thrown her baby into the lion enclosure.

"You've got to be _kidding_ me," Jody spat.

Dean rubbed at the stubble on his jaw and closed his eyes for a few moments. Why did it have to be another baby?

The radio static was entirely too loud and Dean grabbed his radio to turn it off. "Fucking thing."

Dispatch was back on Jody's radio. The woman was now on the run inside the zoo. The baby had been rescued and was a bit battered but basically okay.

"Let's go." 

Mills was already on the radio.

-=-=-=-

When the Impala pulled up into the zoo parking lot Dean began to feel apprehensive. Of course the parking lot was deserted; it was late at night but there was something strange about the place.

Dean's hesitancy increased as they headed towards the main gate. There was a uniformed officer at one of the gates and he waved them over.

"I'll take you into the lion enclosure," the officer said quickly. He locked up the gate and turned to walk quickly.

They headed up a set of wide concrete steps and along a winding path until they came to a small group of people.

"Who saw what happened?" Dean asked quickly.

"Me," said a diminutive man in a zoo uniform. "Chuck Shurley." He extended his hand to Dean who shook it.

"Detective Winchester, this is my partner Detective Mills. Can you tell us what happened?"

Chuck took a deep breath and slid his hands over his wavy, brown hair. "We were walking through the zoo; after closing we always do a walk through to make sure there's no one here. When we got up here she just - she took her kid out of the stroller and dropped him into the enclosure. Who does that? How messed up do you -"

"The baby was recovered quickly?" Mills interrupted to keep the zookeeper on track.

"Yeah. He was ... he went in the ambulance. He wasn't hurt by the lions. They were in their lockup."

"And the mother?" Dean asked.

Shurley nodded as though getting himself together. "She ran off but the exits are all locked except for the one you came in."

"I locked it behind me," the uniformed officer interjected.

"So, she's still in here," Shurley said firmly.

Looking around them, Dean frowned. "Why is it so damn dark in here?"

"Power went out right after she dropped her kid," Shurley answered.

"Is someone getting the lights back on?" Mills asked.

"No," Shurley answered. "That's the thing. There's nothing wrong here. We can't get them back on."

"Okay. Moody it is," Mills said as she looked over at her partner.

Dean pulled the flashlight out of his belt then slid his tactical gloves on. He waited till Jody was ready and then they headed off up the winding path through the zoo.

"I'm gonna go ahead and bet she's some kind of addict," Dean muttered.

"Well, I may have to go with mental illness myself," Mills said as she swung her flashlight over to the bushes that lined the edge of the path.

"No one sane ever dropped their baby in a lion's enclosure." Dean squinted as he leaned down to look in an enclosure.

A roar came out of the darkness and Dean stepped back as a tiger reared up against the fence in front of him.

" _Jesus_ ," Jody muttered. "You've got a way with animals."

"Whatever."

"Way with people too." Jody grinned and headed further up the path.

All Dean could hear for a while was the echoing of their footsteps and then a burst of static made Dean slap at his radio. "Fuckin' thing."

Jody glanced at her partner over her shoulder with a puzzled expression on her face. "You get weirder the longer I work with you."

There was a sharp retort on the tip of Dean's tongue but then his attention was drawn to a sound he could hear in among some trees off to the right.

When Dean caught his partner's eye he nodded in the direction of the noise. They moved like clockwork, Jody swung to the left, Dean to the right until they were approaching the noise from opposite sides.

As Dean approached, the noise grew louder. It sounded like a scratching sound, muffled by the soft earth and the bushes.

Then Dean's flashlight swung over a person. The woman was petite, her blonde hair was covered in dirt and twigs and her well-worn dress was filthy. There was blood all over her forearms and the reason for it became clear very quickly. She was clawing away at the earth as though her life depended on it. Her movements were frantic and she was muttering so quickly Dean couldn't make out what she was saying.

He could sense Jody's presence just behind where the woman was crouched. He moved forward to make sure he was the center of attention.

"Hey there, darlin'. You're having sort of a rough day, aren't ya?"

The woman's brown eyes snapped up to Dean's face and her hands froze where they were curled into the slightly damp earth.

Jody moved up closer to the woman and situated herself where she had good access.

"We're gonna have to take you in, okay?" Dean held his hands up in what he hoped was a non-threatening pose. "You gonna come along with us?"

The woman tilted her head to the side and yanked one hand out of the earth to rub it across her mouth. Blood and dirt smeared across her lips but she didn't seem to notice.

Dean crouched down and shifted a little closer. "How 'bout you lift up your hands so we can get you out of there."

The woman was still muttering; speaking so quickly that bubbles of saliva were forming on her lips. She narrowed her gaze and squared her shoulders.

"What are ya sayin'? I can't hear you." Dean slid a little closer in spite of his instincts telling him not to. He leaned his head down and concentrated on the woman's lips.

He could only just make out the words of her frenzied whisper.

"Break on through to the other side. Break on through to the other side. Break on through to the other side."

"A rock fan. Good. We have something in common." Dean reached out a hand towards the woman. "Let's go."

Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw his partner tense a second before their suspect let out a low, savage growl.

Then her small body was in flight and heading right at Dean. She might have a slight build but when she slammed into Dean it was full force. It was only because he was far larger than her that he managed to keep his footing.

There were limbs everywhere for a few seconds then Dean managed to get hold of one of the woman's arms at exactly the same time as Jody grabbed the other one.

The woman went almost limp in their grasp and returned to muttering the repetitive lyrics.

"The Doors?" Jody asked with a puzzle expression on her face.

"She's got good taste in music," Dean said over the woman's head.

"You okay?" For a moment Jody looked concerned.

Dean nodded. "She didn't get me." He winked and they started moving forward slowly.

The woman followed along between the Detectives meekly. Once she had gotten to her feet Dean noticed she didn't have any shoes.

"Pretty rough shape," Dean murmured.

"Looks like she's been like this for a while." There was concern etched on Jody's features and she looked down at the woman between them.

It took twice as long for them to return to the waiting group of people as it took them to get to the woman's hiding place. 

The zookeeper stepped back away from them as they emerged from the darkness. The uniformed officer moved forward and Dean handed the woman off to him.

Brushing the dirt off his jacket, Dean turned to look down into the lion's enclosure. He was a bit surprised that the baby had survived the fall. It looked to be about thirty feet straight down.

A movement across the enclosure caught Dean's eye and he looked up to see a tall, thin, hooded figure across the enclosure near the back gate. "Who is that, Chuck?"

Chuck moved over to where Dean was standing. "Oh. That's the painter. I thought he left earlier."

"Hey!" Dean called out across the enclosure. "I wanna talk to you! Don't move!"

The hooded man stood still for a while. His obscured face was aimed right at Dean. Then he took two steps backwards and turned to disappear behind some huge boulders.

"Chuck, get me in there. Now. That guy could be our only witness."

"You bet," Chuck said quickly.

They moved along a secondary path that lead to a staff entrance. Chuck used his key card to open a large metal door and they moved into a stuffy workroom.

"What was that guy doing painting in a lion's enclosure?" Dean waited for his eyes to grow accustomed to the darker interior.

"Someone had put some graffiti up in there. All this weird hieroglyphic stuff and he was supposed to be cleaning it off." The zookeeper moved towards a gate at the back of the workroom, opened it with a lever at the side and gestured for Dean to move forward.

"Who is crazy enough to try and tag in a lion's enclosure?" Dean stepped past the gate and saw there was a second one.

"Well, he's gotta still be in there. Ask this guy because I sure as hell don't know," Chuck said. "So. The security measure is that I can only open the gate to the enclosure once this one is closed."

"Ah." Dean peered into the enclosure. "So. There aren't actually any lions in here, correct?"

"No, sir. They're in a small enclosure at the back. They're trained to go in there for feeding so we can get into the enclosure and work if we need to."

Dean rolled his shoulders and turned towards the inner gate. "Okay. Let's do this."

Chuck nodded and pulled another lever and the inside door clanked open. When it slid to a stop the low clang of it reverberated through Dean's body. He could feel the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he moved forward gingerly. "Get it together, Winchester."

Dean's footsteps echoed around the rocks that surrounded the enclosure. He surveyed his surroundings. He could see what was left of the graffiti on the far wall and he moved towards it.

The graffiti closest to the top of the rocks was partially obscured by a coat of white paint. Chuck was right. The markings looked almost like Egyptian hieroglyphics. Not that Dean knew anything about them but they certainly weren't regular graffiti.

He turned to look back at Chuck through the two gates. "What kind of graffiti removal is just painting over it?"

"What?" Chuck leaned closer to the gate. 

"Nevermind!" Dean took a few steps closer to the graffiti and was about to grab his phone for a photo when he heard a low rumble. He pulled his gun immediately. He had no idea what Hoodie-Guy was up to but Dean was getting annoyed.

That was the exact moment Dean realized that it was a lion that was appearing from around the boulder in front of him.

His blood ran cold as adrenaline pumped into his system. He froze and spoke as steadily as he could. "Chuck?"

Dean was sure he heard swearing from inside the small workroom. "Okay. Move back slowly towards me. Do _not_ turn your back on him."

Dean couldn't think of anything that seemed like a worse idea than turning his back on an actual, live lion. He saw movement out the corner of his eyes and turned to see his partner aiming her gun. "Don't shoot! Don't piss it off."

Dean began to walk backwards one steady step after another. "Chuck? I don't hear that gate opening."

"You've got to be closer. The noise might set him off."

_Of course._

The lion stepped forward and shook its head. Its long mane shook back and forth for a few seconds and then it looked over at Dean and roared.

Dean took four or five more steps back and the lion crouched and eased forward.

"Chuck? I think now would be good." Dean could feel cold sweat on the small of his back. His arm was aching and he could see his gun trembling slightly.

"Now, Detective!"

A little more warning might have been good but Dean's reflexes were sharp. He spun and launched himself towards the now open gate. 

The sound of the lion's growl was insanely loud. Dean could almost feel it on his skin.

He heard the lion hit the ground entirely too close to his back so he jumped.

His eyes were on Chuck. As he threw himself towards safety he saw Chuck's hand pull the lever down.

The moment he hit the ground Dean rolled onto his back and began scrambling backwards as he held up his gun. The gate slammed closed, the lion collided with it and Dean couldn't help covering his face with his arms.

When he realized he was safely behind the gate, Dean flopped down onto his back. He panted softly, staring at the ceiling.

"You okay?" Chuck asked.

"Chuck. There was a lion _in_ the enclosure." Dean sat up and looked through the gate at the pacing lion.

"I don't understand it," Chuck said as he opened the inner gate.

"That sucked," Dean mumbled as he got up to his feet. He holstered his gun and headed into the staff workroom.

If Hoodie Guy _had_ been in there he would have been a lion snack. Dean had no idea how the guy had gotten out of the enclosure.

When Dean was outside once again in the fresh night air he took a few deep breaths. His stomach felt queasy and he shivered as the sweat evaporated off his skin. Yeah. He'd seen a lot of things but he'd _never_ narrowly missed being eaten by a lion before. The week was just getting crappier by the second.

-=-=-=-

Dean's father was waiting at home for him after his night shift. Yes. That had happened too. Dean's father, John Winchester, gruff ex-Marine, had moved in.

How could Dean argue when John returned to town? The least a son could do was give his father a place to stay while he figured out what he was doing.

Now, when Dean returned home he took a deep breath outside the door before heading inside.

He loved his father and he _knew_ that his father loved him. But, it was strange living under the same roof as has father again. _Very_ strange.

Dean pushed the door open. "Hey, Dad!"

He knew his father would be up because the lights were on. Since he'd come to stay he seemed to feel it was his duty to wait for Dean when he was working late.

John was at the kitchen table with a beer. He got up when he saw Dean and went to the fridge to get another one for his son. "Late tonight."

"Yeah." Dean nodded, slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair opposite his father. "Had to handle something out at the Zoo. Took forever."

"The Zoo? Hopefully not an escaped panther or something." John laughed.

Dean just smiled and took a drink of beer. He'd told his Dad when he'd first arrived that it was difficult for him to discuss cases from work. There was the confidentiality issue and there was also the fact that Dean didn't want to re-live it.

After a long silence, John sighed. "I know, I know. You can't tell me anything."

"It's complicated, Dad. It's been a pretty tough week." Dean could see the frustration on his father's face and he understood. They'd drifted apart a little over the years and John just wanted to know _anything_ about Dean's life that might help him reconnect to his son.

Since his father had arrived there had been a few non-starter conversations. Dean had spent a lot of time constructing massive walls to try and keep his work out of his personal life. What that had meant was that Dean didn't really _have_ a personal life. It was just easier not to. His father was a fly in that ointment

There was a look on John's face that was somewhere between frustration and concern. "Dean, you can't keep everything bottled up. You know what my temper was like when you were a kid? That was because of what I saw when i was in the Marines. I didn't talk to anyone about it and it festered like a damned infection."

"Dad," Dean interjected. "I get it. But, really? What do you want to know? That I found an eight day old baby dead beside a dumpster? Or that some completely crazy woman dropped _her_ baby into one of the enclosures at the Zoo? No. I know! I only _just_ missed being mauled to death by a lion tonight." Dean had finally run out of breath and words.

John's eyes were a little wider and his cheeks looked a little pale. "I'm sorry." 

Guilt settled down on Dean's chest and made it a little more difficult for him to breathe.

The two men's eyes locked together for a few moments and Dean finally had to look away from his father. There was too much sympathy on John's face.

"Dad, I'm tired and pissy. That's all. Yeah, it's been a pretty rough week but I have rough weeks all the time. I _do_ deal with it. I'm just not used to having someone here to talk to. Usually I talk to Jody. She's an amazing woman."

Hope flitted across John's face and Dean sighed and shook his head. "I'm still gay, Dad. Jody's not _that_ amazing."

John shrugged and looked like he didn't know what to say. 

"I'm goin' in early tomorrow. Maybe we could get a pizza or something tomorrow night and do some catching up?"

"I'd like that, Dean." John smiled and looked down at the table.

"Night, Dad. Get some sleep." Dean hesitated a moment then patted his father's shoulder.

He headed down the hall to the stairs that lead up to the master bedroom and didn't begin to relax until he'd closed the door behind him. It wasn't that he disliked his father; they just didn't know each other very well. Since Dean had been in high school his father had been on the road. They spent most of the important holidays together but other than that they hadn't seen each other. By the time Dean was in high school he nearly always chose his friends over his father.

Over time It became the norm for Dean not to know what was going on with his father.

It would be nice to change that but Dean hadn't expected to have to do it while his father was living with him. It was a little overwhelming.

It would probably continue to be overwhelming as long as they were living under the same roof.

Dean set his beer down on the dresser and rubbed his hands over his hair. He could probably fall asleep standing up if he stayed there too long.

After a long stretch of time, Dean headed over to the bed and crawled onto the quilt. He couldn't even be bothered to get undressed. By the time he thought about kicking his boots off he was already falling asleep.

-=-=-=-

The station had been a hive of activity when Dean arrived. To let himself wake up he plowed through some paperwork then headed out to the kitchen for a coffee. It was definitely a three coffee morning. 

The woman from the zoo had been identified as Jo Harvelle. She had no criminal record so that was a dead end.

Dean and Jody still hadn't managed to get the footage from the Zoo. It existed but getting the correct person on the phone who could actually _approve_ their request for the footage seemed impossible. 

Dean wasn't really paying attention to where he was going when he came around the desk. He almost collided with a rather fit man in jeans and a light red t-shirt. He knew the colour of the t-shirt because the man was taller than him and _that_ was rare.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled. When he looked up her realized that Jo Harvelle and Officer Walker were with the stranger.

Jo still looked terrible. She'd been given some of the jail reds to wear but her face and hair were still a wreck. Her nails were even more ragged than the last time Dean had seen them. It looked as though she'd been digging at the concrete in her holding cell.

He did a double take when he saw the face of the tall man. He was unusual looking, more _exotic_ than most men. His long chestnut colored hair was swept back carelessly off his face and his hazel eyes were slanted enough to be interesting. The stubble on the man's jaw only enhanced the strength and sharpness of his features. He was, in a word, gorgeous. "Who are you?"

The man only looked taken aback for a moment before he regained his composure. He extended his hand towards Dean. "Sam Wesson."

"Where ya takin' Harvelle?" In spite of the firm grip of Sam's huge hand, Dean decided to forego the pleasantries seeing as a rather dangerous woman was out of her cell already.

Office Walker stepped forward with Jo in tow. She was in cuffs but her eyes moved slowly around the reception area. 

At that moment Jody walked out of the hallway. "Yo. Where's Harvelle going, Officer Walker?"

"Just followin' Captain's orders," Walker said.

"Look, Jo's been signed over to me," Sam interjected. "I'm taking her to the Jesuit Treatment Center. She needs targeted care." Sam smiled slightly as he looked over at Jo. "I was called in by her family. We have...history together."

"History?" Dean frowned. The guy was dressed pretty casually but he sounded more _professional_ than Dean had expected.

"Support and intervention of a spiritual nature," Sam answered. He spoke slowly as though his words had been carefully chosen.

"Spiritual?" Dean looked from Jo to Sam and then put everything together. "Oh. Sorry, Padre."

Sam smiled and nodded once. "When you took Jo into custody was she behaving rather oddly? Unusual?"

Furrowed deepened in Dean's brow. "Other than dropping her damned kid in the lion enclosure?"

"I've known Jo a long time," Sam said. "She's definitely not herself right now." When Sam looked over at Jo there was fondness in his expression.

Jo shrunk away from Sam and Office Walker and began to mutter under her breath.

It was a little strange but there was a huge religious community in the city. If they wanted to think that there was some higher power who could bail Jo out, it wasn't Dean's place to disagree.

"Well, Father, take care...she's a dangerous one." Dean took a step backwards so he didn't have to take his eyes off Sam. He collided with Jody and she snorted quietly.

"By the way," Sam said as an afterthought. "I understand there was video of the encounter?"

"That's evidence," Dean said quickly. "We won't be having a public viewing."

Nodding slowly, Sam sighed. "Will you take my card? If you see anything strange on the video I'd be grateful if you'd give me a heads up."

Jo let out a wet hissing sound and Dean frowned at her.

Sam held out his card and after a slight hesitation, Dean took it.

"Let's go, Officer," Sam said. He nodded at Dean and then smiled at Jody.

As the group moved towards the front door Jo spun and let out a low growl in Dean's direction.

Sam stepped forward on his long legs and leaned down to whisper in Jo's ear.

She calmed almost immediately although her eyes remained wide and glassy. "Break-on-through-to-the-other-side," she whispered.

"Good luck, Father." Dean turned to walk away then looked back over his shoulder once more. "Hey, Father? Why the plain clothes?"

"I'm...undercover just like you. Sometimes it's better if people don't see me coming." Sam smiled and then turned to follow Officer Walker as he led Jo out of the building.

The smile set a warmth alight in the pit of Dean's stomach. Tall, good looking, beautiful smile. _Jesuit Priest._

Jody spoke quietly against Dean's ear. "He's a doll."

"Don't you have something else to do?" Dean asked. He was used to Jody's teasing but he couldn't help the blush that had crept onto his cheeks.

"Other than watch you flirt with a Priest? Nope. No. Nothing _nearly_ that entertaining." Jody grinned as she turned and headed off to the video lab.

Following along behind his partner, Dean chuckled but decided it would be better not to say anything else.

He tucked the business card in his pocket and headed down the hall. At least his coffee was still warm.

-=-=-=-

The rumble of the Impala's engine was soothing and Dean gave it a little extra gas while they were stopped at a red light.

Jody rolled her eyes but she looked amused. "You're like a kid with this thing."

"I have no idea what you mean." Dean smirked.

As the car moved through the intersection the radio blared static then the Dispatcher's voice broke through. There was a call about three blocks from them. Someone complaining about a _disturbance_ in their basement.

Dean nodded at Jody and she picked up the radio to accept the call. As soon as she put the radio back down she smiled at Dean. "I love when you're spidey sense gets all tingly."

"It just seems like an easy call," Dean answered.

"Right. Just remember that every time your radar goes off you end up with-"."

"Stitches. I know you think that and _that_ is an exaggeration."

"We'll see," Jody murmured as she stared up the street.

As they drove down a couple of blocks the houses grew progressively older. By the time they pulled up in front of their destination they were faced with a broken-down two story, wooden frame house. The top windows were boarded up and some of the siding had fallen away from the front of the house.

"Wow," Jody murmured. "It's just like the Adam's Family house."

"Cut it out." Dean parked and turned off the engine. "Let's go."

They climbed out of the car and headed over to the front door of the house. Dean knocked and then glared at Jody when she hummed the theme from _Adam's Family_.

The door swung open and a tall, curvy woman with long dark hair was peering out from behind the door.

Dean put on his best neutral face and stepped forward. "Are you Pamela Barnes?"

The woman stepped out from behind the door and nodded. "I am."

Dean held up his badge. "Detective Winchester and this is my partner, Detective Mills. You reported there was something going on in your basement?"

"Come in." Pamela stepped aside and held the door open.

The hallway was dark and smelled strange. It wasn't just that the place was old; it was more than that. It smelled a little bit like the lingering scent of incense that was covering the smell of something unpleasant.

Dean looked around as they moved towards what he assumed was the entrance to the basement. Most of the light bulbs were burned out and some of the paintings on the wall were crooked as though Pamela didn't care much about how the place looked.

Jody peered into the living room quickly then shook her head when Pamela was looking away.

There was no one else in the small house, it seemed. Not that Dean would be letting his guard down any time soon.

"So, tell me what's been going on," Dead said as they walked.

"There are strange sounds coming from the basement. All kinds of banging and grinding comes from down there."

"Have you gone down there to see what it is?" Jody asked.

Pamela smiled slightly and paused near a beat up looking door. "I did at first. When I moved in I thought there might be some kind of animal down there. There was nothing. Then the smell started and I just couldn't go down there anymore.

"Okay." Dean pulled the basement door open but when he flicked the light switch nothing happened. There were some unlit candles at the top of the stairs with the Virgin Mary on the outside and Dean lifted an eyebrow. "You ever replace any bulbs around here?"

Pamela's arms were folded and she stepped back further from the basement door. "I have actually. They never last more than a couple of hours then they burn out. And before you ask. Yes, I've even tried those big religious candles. You're welcome to take some of them down there but they won't stay lit."

Dean's eyebrows rose slightly and he glanced at Jody briefly. Odd. He unclipped his flashlight from his belt and headed down the wooden stairs.

There _was_ a very strange smell.

"I know you don't believe me," Pamela called out from the apparent safety of the hallway. "But there's something...spiritually wrong down there. I don't know what it is but be careful." She stepped back again.

"Spiritual," Jody repeated under her breath. The stairs creaked as she followed Dean down into the close darkness.

Keeping his flashlight trained on the stairs, Dean placed his feet carefully. They wouldn't get anywhere if they fell through a rotten step.

"Pretty nasty down here," Dean said once they were out of earshot.

"I don't know why people have basements," Jody muttered. 

When Dean reached the cement floor he lifted his flashlight. "Wow."

The place was packed with what looked like the makings of a garage sale. The wooden support beams were only about a foot above Dean's head and he had to resist the urge to duck down as he moved forward.

There were all kinds of herbs hanging from the beams; some of them smelled quite heady. There were a lot of old pieces of wooden furniture; chairs, a roll top desk, a few tables and even an old piano. Boxes were stacked near the outer walls and it looked like they had been there a long time, judging by the thick layer of dust.

"This makes me proud of my junk drawer," Jody said as she checked out the space under the stairs. "Creepy as it is, I don't think there's anything down here."

Dean shrugged and moved further away from the stairs. He had rarely seen such a varied collection of stuff. He lifted the flap of a partially open box and saw that it was full of books. He let the lid drop and a cloud of dust made him turn his head away and cough.

"Y'alright?"

"Just dust." Dean headed further into the darkness. The smell intensified a little. It definitely smelled like something was dead.

There was a rattling sound and Dean swung around to redirect the beam of his flashlight. There was a small wooden-based lamp on the table with a green lampshade. As Dean stared at it he saw it rock back and forth slightly on the table.

He felt Jody move in behind him and the beam of her flashlight connected with his.

"What. The. Hell." Jody said somewhere behind Dean's right shoulder.

"Shhh." The lamp rattled again and Dean stepped to the side a little to peer behind it. Nothing seemed out of place.

The lamp went still and both Detectives froze. There was a metallic _snap_ and Jody pulled her gun.

"Steady," Dean said. he leaned forward and reached behind the lamp. When his hand appeared again he was holding a small mouse trap with a tiny, furry body in it. "You wanna read him his rights or just put him out of his misery?"

Jody met Dean's grin with a frown. "Not funny, Dean. I need some air. This place stinks."

Dean couldn't help chuckling as Jody turned and headed for the stairs. "I'll be up shortly."

A burst of static from the radio startled Dean and he slapped his hand against it. "I _really_ need a new radio."

There was a flicker of movement off in the shadows and when Dean tried to aim his flashlight the beam flickered on and off. "Fuck."

He shook the flashlight and then smacked it a few times when it continued to flicker.

When the beam finally stayed on for about two seconds there was a snake hanging from one of the overhead pipes. The light flickered out and Dean swore again. He tapped the flashlight again and when the light came on again there was only a cable lying across the pipe. _Great_. All Dean needed was to start hallucinating.

When Dean moved his flashlight again he saw some fresh paint on the wall. Below it was a tarp with a couple of half-used cans of paint. More painting.

Leaning a bit closer to the wall, Dean could see that white paint had been used to cover something up on the wall. At the top edge where the new paint ended Dean could see what looked like the edge of a few letters or symbols.

The beam of the flashlight travelled down the wall until Dean could see the bottom again. When he looked more closely he could see symbols that _looked_ the same as the symbols at the Zoo.

Things were getting a little more interesting. 

Dean crouched down and had a look around on the tarp. There was a strange sound from somewhere off to Dean's left and he turned slowly to play the light beam along a broken down wall.

Dean's head was filled with the sound of static again. He swore and grabbed his radio off his belt and shook it. A frown appeared on his face when he realized the sound wasn't actually coming from his radio.

Suddenly, there was a crunching sound from the wall. Dean jumped back and aimed his flickering light beam at the wall. A crack appeared and then there was a tremendous snapping sound and the wall collapsed outwards like it was made of paper.

Something fell out of the wall and Dean covered his eyes to ward off the huge cloud of dust that accompanied it. His lungs ached and he coughed a few times as the dust settled.

When he opened his eyes and looked down, there was a partially decomposed body lying in amongst the debris.

"Well, that explains the smell," Dean murmured.

He moved the light along the torso. It was probably a lean body once but it was bloated and swollen with the gases from decomposition.

When Dean leaned down he could see movement on the face. The lips seemed to quiver and then opened wide enough to let out a stream of flies.

Dean fell back from the body and covered his face again. A cold shiver ran down his spine. The buzzing of the flies was loud for a while and then it grew quieter. Dean was almost afraid to open his eyes.

When he finally peered between his fingers at the body again there were a few holes torn in the putrid flesh. It was rotting and the smell of it was thick and oily. Bile rose in the back of Dean's throat.

Dropping his hand, he eased a little closer once he could see that most of the insects had cleared out. He noticed a wallet sticking out of the stained shirt pocket. He was able to nudge it out and flip it open with the end of the flashlight. The name on the driver's license was _Garth Fitzgerald._

-=-=-=-

Fitzgerald's apartment wasn't far from the house where he'd met his end. The building was a walkup with eight units inside. There was no need for Dean and Jody to get a warrant because the door to Fitzgerald's apartment had been left wide open after the place had been ransacked.

The landlord had accompanied the Detectives as far as the open door then headed back down to his office.

As soon as Dean and Jody had gloved up they headed inside.

The apartment was an absolute wreck. _Everything_ in the place had been overturned or broken. There were papers and books strewn all over the floor as though a tornado had crashed through.

The Detectives cleared the apartment then began to have a better look around.

Dean took the kitchen. The fridge door was wide open; it had been moved out away from the wall and unplugged. There was rotting food strewn about and it smelled terrible.

A small window at the south of the kitchen was smashed. When Dean got close enough to see clearly he noticed that all the glass was _outside_ the building. Strangely, it looked as though someone has just ... run through it. A quick look outside revealed all the glass lying on the concrete three floors below.

"Dean!"

Dean followed his partner's voice and found her in the bedroom holding out a business card.

It was a card for a painting company.

As Jody put the business card into an evidence bag, Dean noticed a photo on the floor in between some broken CDs.

He grabbed it off the floor and blew the fine coating of dust off of it. It was a photo of three Marines. The 8 x 10 was blown up enough that he could see the name bars on the men's uniforms.

 _Milligan_.  
_Roman_.  
_Fitzgerald_.

Jod stood and headed over to look at the photo. "Fitzgerald is the haunted basement dude."

Dean nodded.

"Milligan we don't know. But Roman? Is that our wife abuser?"

With that, their case got quite a bit more interesting.

-=-=-=-

When Dean and Jody finally arrived back at the station Sam Wesson was there waiting for them. For some reason, Jody suddenly needed to go and make a phone call. She smirked as she waved her fingers at Sam then she was gone.

"What brings you down here again, Father?" Dean asked. Why did the guy have to look the way he did _and_ be a man of the cloth?

"You keep calling me Father. Are you a Catholic?" The smile on Sam's face was warm.

"Lapsed, you might say," Dean answered. Frowning, he rubbed his fist across his mouth. For some reason it made him uncomfortable to talk about his beliefs. "So. You're not _Father_ Sam then. What do I call ya?"

"Just Sam is fine."

"So - Just Sam. what was it you came down here looking for?"

"Well, I came to see if you'd found anything on the videos that would help us to deal with Jo's affliction."

"Affliction?" Dean huffed. "She's _crazy_ , Sam. Maybe if she's in the right place now she can get help for that but nothing on a tape is gonna help."

Furrows appeared in Sam's forehead and his gaze intensified. "I disagree. Like I said, I think her problem is more spiritual in nature."

Dean blinked a few times and tried not to look quite as sceptical as he was. "Spiritual."

For a while Sam just looked into Dean's eyes. "It's not physical, it's not psychological; it's more than that. She isn't herself at all."

"Some people are just evil, Fath- Sam. Maybe being locked up for a while is all she needs."

Sam shook his head slowly. "The evil that men do, and I'm sure you've seen a lot of it, that is secondary evil. Primary evil is stronger, more pure, and it can infect people like a disease."

The wheels were beginning to turn in Dean's mind. Evil? Spiritual? "Sam, are you hinting at Jo being possessed or something? Because _that's_ a little out there."

"No, Detective. It's closer than you think." Sam pressed his lips together and shrugged a shoulder.

Dean didn't have much to say. For some reason, he was inclined to want to believe Sam and that was a little disturbing. "I've...I have to go. I do hope that Jo gets better."

As Dean turned to leave he was stopped by a warm grip on his wrist. When he looked up Sam was a little _too_ close for Dean to be comfortable. There were tiny flecks of gold in the man's eyes and the fact that Dean noticed meant that he _really_ need to move away.

When Sam spoke, his voice was soft; his words meant only for Dean. "When you get the video please let me know if you see anything you can't explain? Please give me a call?"

"I kept your card, Sam." It was really the only thing Dean could come up with.

The long fingers slipped away from Dean's wrist.

"It was good to see you again, Dean."

Smiling, Dean nodded. "Good to see you, too." 

It _was_ good to see Sam but Dean wished that he was seeing him in a completely different context.

Dean watched as Sam made his way through the crowd of people in the front office. He shook his head and headed over to the security door and buzzed himself in.

When he arrived at his desk Jody was waiting with two coffees and a teasing smile.

Dean held up his hand. "Do _not_ say a word."

Grinning, Jody rolled her chair closer to Dean's desk and set his coffee down. "Can I say words that relate specifically to our case?"

"Yes." Dean sank down into his chair.

Jody slid a report towards Dean. "Turns out that Milligan had complete records kept by the military."

"And?" His partner's face was lit up like a kid's on Christmas morning. Dean had seen the look before so he knew that Jody must have pieced some of the puzzle together.

"Forensics took samples from the writing at the Zoo and it was written in Adam Milligan's blood. That was him at the Zoo." Jody nodded and raised her eyebrows.

"I bet you saved the best for last." It was hard not to smile at his partner.

Nodding, Jody pulled a paper out from under the forensics report.

Dean found himself looking at a marriage licence. The names on the paper surprised him. "Whoa ... Milligan was there when Jo threw _his_ child into the lion enclosure?"

Both of their smiles faded and Dean knew why: every time they found out something more about the case it got a little more complicated.

"Dean, we have the video from the Zoo as well."

"Let's have a look at it then." Dean picked up his coffee; he was definitely going to need it.

-=-=-=-

The video from the Zoo was black and white and a little grainy. The camera was probably about fifteen feet above the ground and angled so that the width of the lion's enclosure was visible.

Jody fast forwarded the video until Jo appeared. Jo was wearing the same tattered clothing the detectives had seen the night of the arrest.

Jo was pushing a baby stroller and headed towards a bench where she sat down.

Dean leaned forward and squinted slightly as he tried to see beyond Jo.

There was movement in the upper left of the screen. The man in the hoodie appeared: Adam Milligan. The symbols and Latin words were visible in the background of the video even though most of them were painted over.

Adam walked forward and stopped at the edge of the Lion's enclosure. Jo stood immediately and stepped as close to the metal railings as she could.

It looked as though Adam was speaking to his wife. Her shoulders stiffened and even on the static-filled video it was easy to see that she was shaking.

The video began to hiss and click and Dean leaned forward to turn the volume down.

"What're you doing?" Jody frowned and leaned back in her chair.

"That noise is driving me nuts."

"What noise?"

Dean looked over his shoulder at his partner and frowned. "You serious?"

Just as Jody opened her mouth to reply there was movement on the video again. Dean held up his hand for silence.

Rather suddenly, Milligan turned and headed away from Jo and further into the enclosure. The moment Milligan disappeared Jo turned back to the stroller and picked up the baby.

Dean had to fight the urge to turn away from the screen. But, he kept his eyes fixed on Jo as she lifted the baby up over the railing and threw him. He was visible for a fraction of a second and then he was gone.

As the Detectives watched Jo collapsed to the cement pathway and began to claw at it frantically.

"Jesus," Jody murmured.

They'd both seen some pretty horrific things during their careers but the video was pretty hard to watch.

As Dean leaned in closer to the screen again he could hear some strange whispering.

When he was only a few inches from the screen a body appeared _right_ in front of the camera. It was a face from Dean's nightmares. The face was covered in blood and looked as though the features were scrunched up in pain.

Dean threw himself back from the screen and Jody was so startled she almost fell out of her chair. "Jesus Christ, Dean! What?"

Sweat was cool on Dean's forehead and the small of his back. "Did you see that?" _Did you see my nightmare?_

"See what?" Concern was written all over Jody's face.

Dean leaned forward to hit the _review_ switch to backup the video. He let it play through again and ... there was nothing other than what should have been there. No nightmares.

"Dean? Are you messing with me?"

The video crackled again and Dean thought he could hear music. "Now what is _that_?"

"What's what?" Jody rolled her chair forward until she was sitting beside Dean.

"Can you hear that?" Dean leaned in close to the speaker.

Jody leaned back in her chair and scoffed. "Now I _know_ you're fucking with me."

"You seriously can't hear anything?"

"Give it up," Jody said with a smile on her face. "There was no sound recorded on this video."

Obviously, Dean was going completely crazy. _That_ or he wasn't getting nearly enough sleep. But - there was more to the case than he and his partner had discovered yet. Definitely a _lot_ more.

-=-=-=-

The Romans’ place didn't look as imposing during the daylight. Dean had run into nothing but dead ends so he had decided to stop by and speak to Ruby.

When he knocked on the door it wasn't opened until long after he heard footsteps approaching. The door squeaked loudly and Ruby peered around the edge of it.

Her thick dark hair was pulled up in a sloppy ponytail and she was wearing black-rimmed glasses. There were bruises all over her face, one of her eyes was black and her full bottom lip was split on one side.

Dean held up his badge. "Ms. Roman, you might not remember me. I'm Detective Winchester."

"I remember you," Ruby said softly.

"I was wondering -"

"- I haven't seen him - Dick. If that's who you're looking for. He hasn't been back since the night you and your partner were here."

It had seemed pretty unlikely to Dean that Rroman would have returned home. He knew he'd be arrested if the cops ran across him.

"I was actually wondering if I could look at his things. I've just learned he was in the Marines."

Ruby nodded and pushed the door open wider. "He was a videographer. There is tons of film in his office from when they were deployed."

"Do you think I could see some of it?" It was a lot to ask and Dean was relying on Ruby allowing him in.

Ruby was quiet for a while and then she nodded and held the door open further for Dean.

The house was a lot cleaner than it had been the first time Dean had been there. He followed Ruby down the hall and into a small office.

Just as Ruby had said, the office looked a little like the video lab at the station. There were two large computer monitors on the wooden desk against the far wall. Beside the desk was a stack of memory cards.

"He wasn't like this before. He was a great husband. We had a lot of fun until this last tour."

Hoping Ruby would continue to reveal more about Dick Roman, Dean stayed silent. He walked over to the desk and leaned back against it.

Ruby folded her arms across her chest and held on tightly. "He was different when he came back. But when he joined the painting company I thought things might be okay."

The card Dean had found at Fitzgerald's place popped into Dean's mind. "Breakthrough Painting?"

Ruby frowned as though she was surprised that Dean knew the name of the company. Finally, she nodded. "Adam started it."

_Adam Milligan._

"The longer the three of them were together the weirder Dick became." Ruby gestured to the window sill and Dean noticed scratch marks on the floor. "He would scratch at the floor like he was trying to dig through it."

"And he hasn't been back?"

Ruby shook her head and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Do you mind if I stay here for a while? Look at the videos?"

It could be Dean's wishful thinking but he thought Ruby looked a little relieved. Maybe Ruby wasn't so certain that Dick Roman wouldn't be back to finish what he'd started. "That's fine."

Without waiting for Ruby to say anything else, Dean turned to have a look at the videos. After a while he heard Ruby's footsteps as she walked off down the hall.

Dean sighed. There was a lot to look at. As he spun around on the chair he noticed that there was a huge patch of white paint on the wall by the door.

He headed over and when he got closer, Dean thought he could see something familiar. A quick glance around the room revealed some painting supplies. He picked up a paint scraper and began to work at removing the newest layer of paint.

The thick coat of paint peeled away quite easily. It only took about ten minutes to reveal all the markings. Dean was right. It looked as though it was similar to what had been partially covered at the Zoo.

_INVOCAMVS_  
TE - VT INGREDIARIS  
AB IFERRRUS 

The words looked like Latin to Dean but he wasn't sure what the symbols were. He pulled out his phone and took a photo so he could compare the text later.

The overhead light flickered and Dean's hand moved unconsciously to his holster. He froze and listened intently. He could hear a faint scratching sound from just down the hallway.

After a deep breath, Dean slid along the wall towards the door.

The lights went out completely and Dean could see very little. He eased out into the hall and looked both ways before stilling again to listen.

There was still a scratching sound at the end of the hall. Dean squinted and could _just_ see the front door. It was sitting wide open. "Shit."

The exact moment Dean turned to look behind him a heavy weight slammed into his shoulder. There was a low growl near Dean's ear and when he swung his hips to the side he managed to twist around and found himself face to face with Dick Roman.

The man who had slammed into him looked very different to the way he had the night they had tried to arrest him. In fact, Roman looked as though he'd been buried. He was filthy and during the brief glimpse that Dean got of Roman's face he could see it was covered in scabs and blood.

Roman unleashed another attack and the two men rolled towards the wall. Nails scraped down Dean's neck and he grunted then punched at the side of Roman's head.

The man let out an angry howl and reared back off Dean's body. He spun quickly, ran down the hall then leaped straight through a closed window. The glass exploded out into the darkness.

Dean lay there on his back panting and let his head thump back onto the floor. He'd better check on Ruby.

-=-=-=-

It seemed that Roman hadn't been in his house for very long. Ruby hadn't known anything was going on until she'd heard the window smash. She seemed rattled but was still able to help Dean clean the scrapes on his face and neck. He suggested that Ruby go and stay somewhere else and she didn't need any persuasion. While Dean boarded up the broken window she called her sister.

As soon as Dean had watched a taxi pull away from the curb with Ruby in it, he headed back inside.

There was a stack of drives to go through but it seemed prudent to begin with the one from Roman's most recent deployment. That was the tour of duty that Ruby said had changed her husband.

After he checked the scribbled dates on the drives Dean picked up the one from two months previous. He connected the drive and found a video file in the main directory called simply: _Message_. It seemed like a good place to start.

-=-=-=-

Roman was behind the camera. Fitzgerald looked a lot better _alive_ than he had when Dean had last seen him. The second man visible on the camera was Milligan. _Adam Milligan_.

Milligan was on point as the Marines joked and bantered back and forth while approaching the entrance to what looked like a cave.

The video image fluttered as the three men entered the cave. The image flipped over to _night_ mode and Dean was suddenly watching a dark greenish image.

The rock walls were weeping water and Dean leaned forward unconsciously as though he could peer around the corner ahead of them.

The three marines cut out the teasing as they rounded a corner into a small cavern.

Someone swore just out of the frame and Roman swung the camera to the left.

Milligan was standing on the edge of something that looked as though it was a pit or ditch. When Roman moved forward with the camera the contents of the pit were revealed. There were skulls everywhere. Some of the skulls were bleached white as though they'd been out in the sun. Some of them looked almost moldy like they'd been lying in the damp cave for years.

Milligan pushed his helmet back a little and crouched down by the pit to get a better look.

Roman moved forward and aimed the camera at the beginning of the pit then followed it along. All skulls, full, and the pit disappeared into the cave behind them as though it were neverending.

Fitzgerald appeared at Roman's side and they discussed a few theories. Was the cave a burial ground or some kind of sacrificial chamber? What about past war crimes?

The marines stood and headed deeper into the darkness. Roman aimed the camera at the two other men until they disappeared then headed after them quickly.

The video image flickered. It went completely dark once or twice and then Dean could see the backs of the two Marines again. One of the men stumbled; it looked like Fitzgerald and Dean leaned in closer.

A noise began to come out of the speakers standing by the monitor and Dean sat back instinctively. The sound swelled louder and then something slammed into the camera and it looked like it was knocked to the ground. It sounded a little like a freight train.

Dean stared intently at the screen then he heard one of the men yell, "Fuckin' bats!"

That explained the noise. The camera shook again, swung in an ark then as the noise grew quieter Roman managed to get the camera focussed on Fitzgerald.

Fitzgerald had his weapon out but it was pointing at the ground. He was frozen, staring at something ahead of him.

Roman swung the camera again and after shaking for a couple of moments it settled on Milligan's back.

The Marine was standing in front of a rocky wall and there were words and symbols on it; the same words and symbols that were painted on the wall behind Dean.

Roman called out to Milligan but the man just stood there staring. The image began to shake again and the all too-familiar static was all Dean could hear.

Milligan raised his hands and pressed them to the rock face.

Fitzgerald stepped into the frame. It looked like he called out to Milligan but Dean couldn't be certain.

The camera shook again as Roman moved closer.

Milligan turned slowly to face the camera. His face was twisted into a horrible grimace; his mouth wide open and his eyes ... were completely black.

One of the men swore, the camera fell to the ground and then, eventually, the video stopped.

"What the _fuck_ is going on?" Dean murmured. He realized he was sitting far away from the monitor and shifted closer.

When he put his hand on the desk to pull the chair closer it landed on a rather official looking report.

It was a dishonourable discharge for Dick Roman. Dean flipped it open and read a description of how the three Marines had left the cave and killed one of their superiors then left another one near death. The incident was marked as post-traumatic stress and the men were discharged to a Veteran's hospital.

Obviously, they weren't kept there long enough.

Dean sat back on the chair and rubbed his eyes. After a deep breath he pulled his phone and of his pocket and called Jody. 

"Hey, Jody? This shit is far bigger than we thought. I'm gonna be busy in the morning so can I bring you a non-fat-decaf mocha with extra whip tonight?"

Of course, Jody said yes. She was that kind of partner. Dean had a _lot_ of explaining to do and the truly frustrating thing was that it wasn't really going to make much any clearer to Jody.

-=-=-=-

When Dean had woken up after a fitful night's sleep he figured there was one person he needed to talk to for some answers.

He made a few calls, avoided having to talk to his father and found out where Jo had been taken by Father Sam.

It was a Jesuit hospital; a nice place as far as Dean could tell. He parked and walked into a rather elaborate looking entrance. There was a desk behind a glass wall. Maybe the place wouldn't be as nice on the inside as it was on the outside but he was impressed.

There was a gruff looking orderly behind the security glass. Dean stood there for a while and the man said nothing so Dean tapped on the window. "Excuse me, I'd like to see one of your patients."

The man leaned back on his chair and rubbed his beard. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No. I arrested -"

"No visitors unless it's arranged officially."

"Okay. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot..." Dean glanced down at the name tag on the man's white shirt. "Mr. Singer? I need to see one of the folks you have here and -"

"No visitors," the orderly said firmly.

Dean was beginning to lose his temper. "Listen, buddy -"

"Detective Winchester. I was hoping to run into you again."

The voice behind Dean was familiar and when he turned around he was face to face with Sam.

There was something about Sam that made Dean's blood run a little hotter. He felt like those unusually-shaped eyes could see right into his soul. It was unnerving and attractive at the same time.

Dean smiled. "Fath - Sam. Nice to see you again. I came here to talk to Jo but the sphincter police won't let me through."

"Look, son - " Singer said from behind the glass.

" - Don't call me son -"

" - Bobby," Sam interjected. "The Detective is with me. We're just going to head in and see Jo."

Bobby nodded grudgingly. "The rules are -"

Sam held up his hand and nodded at Boddy. "I'll take full responsibility, Bobby."

Sam slipped a long arm over Dean's shoulder and steered him towards an extremely secure looking entrance.

As they walked down a long hallway, Dean glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "Guess you've got some clout here."

Smiling, Sam glanced at Dean then looked ahead of them down the hallway. "I guess you could call this place my office."

"Strange office," Dean said. "Doesn't it get a little depressing?" They had passed a few rooms that were occupied and even though everything seemed quite nice, the doors were still locked.

A rather enigmatic smile appeared on Sam's face. "It's probably very similar to your job in some ways."

"How's that?"

"Well, I see a lot of things that are really...horrific. I see some good but I'm not always sure which side is winning."

It was a simple way of putting it but it made a lot of sense. 

"You know, Sam. The only thing I think I would add to that is...evil is definitely winning."

Sam fixed his gaze on Dean again for a few moments. "Doesn't mean it's not worth trying to make it better though, right?"

For as long as he could manage it, Dean held Sam's gaze as they walked. "I'm still in the fight for now."

The smile on Sam's face warmed and he nodded. His hand settled on the small of Dean's back and he guided him through another security door.

"Jo's way down here?"

The hallway wasn't nearly as bright as the one they'd just left. The building wing they had entered looked a lot older. Frankly, it looked more like a prison than anything he'd seen previously.

Sam stopped in front of the final cell in the row. He stayed a full pace back from the bars that held Jo captive. It seemed like overkill to Dean but then he didn't know Jo all that well.

The inside of the cell was dark and it took a while for Dean's eyes to adjust. As the back of the cell became clearer Dean could see Jo huddled in the corner. She was still wearing the same clothes, was still filthy and Dean was a little surprised. He glanced at Sam with his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah. I know how this looks but when she got here she was resistant to any kind of contact. I will never force anyone to accept something they aren't inclined towards. And ... she seems a little more calm in the dark."

"Can't she be sedated or anything?"

Sam looked down at his hands for a few moments. "That's dangerous under the circumstances. That would inhibit Jo's ability to resist."

Dean turned to face Sam. "Resist what, exactly?"

"Surely you know already, Dean." There was such intensity in Sam's eyes that Dean had to fight the urge to step back.

"Break on through. Break on through," Jo hissed at the back of the cell.

"She has a thing for The Doors," Dean said drily. 

"I think it's a metaphor," Sam replied.

A scratching sound began to emerge from the cell and both men turned to look into the darkness.

When Dean's eyes adjusted again he let out a gasp. Jo was scratching at the cement floor; her nails were torn, ragged and bleeding. He closed his eyes for a few moments to steady himself.

"Dean? What did you want to see her for?" Sam reached out and curled his hand over Dean's shoulder as though he could sense that Dean was wavering.

Pressing his lips together, Dean drew in a deep breath through his nose. He reached in his pocket and pulled his phone out so he could flip through the images until he found the writing he'd discovered on Roman's wall.

He turned the brightness up and held the phone out through the bars.

"Dean." Sam's fingers tightened on Dean's shoulder. "Be careful. She's still violent."

"The last person she picked on was a _baby_." Dean couldn't help sneering into the cell. "Come over here, Jo. I wanna show you something."

There were strange hissing sounds from the back corner of the cell. Pale hands with blood stained fingers emerged from the shadows and Jo began to crawl towards the front of the cell.

Dean stretched his arm out towards Jo. "Do you know these words, Jo?"

Using the wall, Jo clawed her way up until she was standing.. Her head tilted to the side and her dirty blonde hair hung forward heavily over her eyes. She peered through the greasy strands at Dean and stepped closer.

The light from the screen of Dean's phone cast a strange glow on Jo's face as she moved closer.  
Her lips were moving so quickly that Dean couldn't make out a lot of words.

Jo's hand shot out as she approached the bars. Her fingers snatched a grip on Dean's wrist and her nails dug into his skin.

Dean tried to pull his arm back but Jo had a death grip on him. "Do you recognize those words, Jo?"

Finally, Jo found her voice and she began to spew Latin. Her nails sliced into Dean's skin as she spoke. It was all too quick for Dean to even begin to understand what Jo might be saying.

Sam stepped closer and slid his arm over Dean's shoulder. "Jo, let go of the Detective's arm."

Static began to fill up Dean's mind and Jo's words felt like they were slicing into his mind.He pulled harder on his arm but only succeeded in trapping it against the cold, steel bars.

"Jo! Let go" Sam said firmly.

Jo glanced over at Sam then back at Dean. She froze for a few heartbeats then lunged forward. her teeth clamped down on Dean's wrist just above his watch.

Pain shot up Dean's arm and when he jumped back instinctively Jo just clamped her jaw down even harder.

Sam's hand moved to the back of Dean's neck and he leaned in to the bars. "I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are with all your minions now attacking this servant of God. Relent."

Jo's jaw relaxed and she crumpled to the floor.

As soon as he was free Dean fell backwards and landed hard on his ass. There was blood all over his forearm and he could see that Jo's bite had broken the skin in a lot of places. "Fuck."

From deep within the shadows that surrounded her, Jo whispered, "Crowley."

Scrambling to his feet Dean ran back down the hall and into the first washroom he spotted. He shoved his wrist under the cold water. The stinging pain of the wound cut through the overwhelming static in Dean's mind. Stupid fucking move to stick his hand in there. But _Jesus_ , what the fuck was wrong with Jo?

What Dean _did_ know was that he had a brutal headache, an aching arm and he needed to go to the hospital.

Dean wrapped paper towel around his wrist and kicked the bathroom door open.

By the time he got to the reception area once again, Sam was already standing there.

The attendant,Bobby was watching one of the twelve video monitors behind him and he spun towards the glass as Dean emerged from the hall. "What the _hell_ did you do to our patient?"

"Me?" Dean exclaimed in genuine surprise. He held up his arm as he kept pressure on it. "Did you _see_ this? She fucking _bit_ me!"

Sam stepped forward and laid his palm flat on Dean's chest. "Hey, you okay other than your arm?"

For a few seconds Dean had to think about it. The annoying static had finally gone away so the only thing that hurt was the bite shaped wound on his wrist. "I'm okay. I need to get to the hospital. She could have HIV or.. anything."

Tilting his head slightly, Sam frowned as though he was confused. "I'll drive you. Let's go."

The throbbing in Dean's arm was insistent and after a final glare at Bobby, Dean nodded once at Sam. "We're taking my car though and I need a drink afterwards."

Looking slightly amused, Sam held out his hand for Dean's car keys. 

-=-=-=-

Three hours later, Dean was seated across from Sam in the back of a smoky bar. He held up his phone for Sam to take.

"The same words, symbols, whatever were written at the Zoo, at Roman's and where we found Fitzgerald's body. Some of it looked like Latin, right?"

Sam nodded and his long hair fell forward and framed his face. "The pictographs are Persian, but yeah, the words are Latin. It's a common combination. Been around since before Christ."

Dean took a few gulps of beer and nodded. Sam seemed to know a lot about languages but Sam seemed to know a lot about a lot of things that had seemed a bit random at first.

Dean frowned when he heard the music coming from the juke box. _People are Strange_ by The Doors. If Dean was a more airy fairy kind of guy he might believe the universe was trying to tell him something.

"What is this thing anyway?"

Sam tilted his head for a few moments. "It's a curse, basically."

"A curse?" Even though Dean had not intended to let on quite how sceptical he was he must have failed to hide it because Sam had _that_ smile on his face again.

"Think of it as a curse that creates a doorway," Sam said.

"A doorway for what?"

"For that primary evil we talked about the other day."

"Evil," Dean echoed. He tried to block out the music but the lyrics were beginning to get to him.

_When you're strange_  
Faces come out of the rain  
When you're strange  
No one remembers your name 

"You okay, Dean? You seem distracted." Sam leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table.

 _Distracted_ was one word for it. "Today's been kind of crazy so far."

To illustrate his point Dean held up his bandaged forearm. "And all this talk about _evil_. No matter what I believe, that's a little unnerving."

Just as Sam was about to answer the waiter appeared at the table. Dean looked up at him and smiled. He'd been to the bar before and seen the young man. He was pretty good looking, and even though Dean didn't have time for the complication of a relationship it didn't mean that he was blind.

Dean ordered another beer for each of them and watched as the waiter walked away. What he didn't expect was for Sam to turn and look at the waiter's ass.

When Sam turned back towards Dean he took a drink of his beer.

"Father?" Amused. Dean couldn't help the smug expression on his face.

"Well, I'm more on the Demonology side of things rather than the actual _Jesuit_ side of things."

"Uh huh," Dean said.

"I've led a pretty complicated life." Sam looked down at the beer in front of him and traced a finger over the designs on the bottle.

Rather suddenly Dean found that he was seeing Sam in a very different light. Shaking his head, Dean leaned back and rubbed at his arm. It was aching like a bastard.

Sam seemed unwilling to discuss his personal life because he changed the subject quickly. "So, you don't believe in evil?"

"Oh, I do. In fact I _know_ there are evil people in the world. I just know that _God_ doesn't save people from evil. Wanna know how I know that?"

Sam nodded.

"When I was six years old a freaking drug addict broke into our house and tried to kill my mother. The only reason he didn't was because _I_ got the biggest knife I could find from the kitchen and I stabbed the guy in the back. I saved my mom, Sam. There was no divine intervention or angelic help."

"That must have been really traumatic." Sam looked concerned.

"Well, maybe that's why I went on to become a cop."

"Maybe," Sam said. "Some people might argue that it was the grace of God that put you there when your mother needed you."

"I know it's not proof of everything either way but _fuck_. The things I've seen, Sam. The people who do some of this heinous shit are truly evil. _Truly._

"That's still the evil that people do. Haven't you ever felt like there might be something even _worse_ out there? Can't you sense it?'

For a moment Dean considered it. There had been times when he felt almost as though he had sensed the presence of something. "I don't know about that, Sam. I think it's just that people are fucked up and I'm good at reading them."

Sam was silent for a while and then he reached down into the messenger bag he was carrying. "I have something I want you to listen to."

It was a small, black digital recorder that Sam set on the table between them. "It's from an exorcism I did a few years back. The possessed was a little girl. She was only six years old."

Taking a deep breath, Sam slid the recorder and headphones closer to Dean. "Dean, there are three voices on the recording. One is mine, one is the mother's and the third one is the little girl."

There was a strange look on Sam's face and Dean had to admit that he was a little hesitant to put the earbuds in. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear anything that could put such a guarded look on Sam's face.

But Sam said nothing further. He just stared at the recorder then nodded at Dean.

After a while longer, Dean picked up the ear buds and put them in. He pushed the play button.

He heard Sam's voice introducing the scene. His voice was steady, unwavering. Sam checked with the Mother and then began the exorcism. Dean had been Catholic long enough to recognize some of the Latin.

He could hear the mother murmuring her own prayer in the background.

And then there was a blood curdling scream. The problem was that it was low and gravelly and couldn't possibly be coming from a little girl.

Dean blinked a few times as the howling voice began to speak in a language he couldn't even recognize. The sound of the voice sent shivers racing down his arms.

It was...inhuman. It set off every alarm Dean had built up over the years. Every instinct he had made him alert; he had to concentrate in order not to bolt from the bar.

The static in Dean's head reared up again. The voice on the recording grew so loud Dean's ears began to distort the sound.

He yanked the headphones out and slapped a hand on the recorder to stop the playback.

The static continued for a while and Dean rubbed at the ache in his temples. When he picked up his beer he drained half of the bottle then set it down and wiped his mouth.

"Disturbing, isn't it," Sam said.

All Dean could do was nod. It wasn't like he was in a position to disagree. He'd be _very_ happy if he never had to hear anything like that recording again for the rest of his life.

"How do you know?" Dean asked. "That someone is..." He gestured with his beer because he couldn't come up with the rest of the question.

"There are some consistent signs of possession. That's the Demonologist speaking." Sam smiled slightly as though he wanted to take the edge off the words. "There's the voice; a voice that is unfamiliar. There's often inhuman strength. They're clairvoyant; they'll demonstrate a clear knowledge of things they couldn't possibly know. It might be a language. It could be facts about your life."

Dean nodded again and moved on to his second beer.

"Dean, who's Crowley?"

Eyes widening slightly, Dean averted his gaze. There were some things he didn't want to relive and certainly not with someone like Sam. The guy seemed to be able to get inside Dean's head and that could be dangerous.

"Another time, maybe," Sam said before Dean even attempted to answer. "Do you play pool?"

-=-=-=-

The pool table was in the back of the bar and the place wasn't busy. Dean couldn't even remember what day it was so he wasn't sure if it was a quiet night.

As they played the first game they continued to chat and Dean began to relax a little bit.

Sam was an interesting guy. Sure, he looked good. But he was definitely the kind of guy that Dean would be interested in and he was an interesting man as well. Dean had a feeling that there was far more to Sam's background that he was revealing. That made sense; they hardly knew one another.

It was unusual for Dean to connect with someone he'd just met but he certainly felt a little less on-guard around Sam.

As for the taped exorcism, well, Dean was trying not to even think about that. He had no reason to disbelieve Sam but an exorcism? It had been a lot of years since Dean had been to Church and even back then he hadn't believed in Hell and Demons. He found himself more open to the possibility that he may have been wrong. He didn't like the revised position much.

"You didn't give me a real answer before," Sam said after he missed a shot. "How did you become a cop?"

Dean leaned his hip against the pool table and looked over at Sam. "Ever since the thing with my mom I felt like I wanted to make a difference. It felt good to protect Mom and I thought it was something I'd like to do with my life."

Even as a child Dean had felt proud of himself for being there. For years after the event he'd felt a kind of responsibility to be there for his mother. He'd wanted to make sure nothing happened to her.

"You were called to the work," Sam said almost sadly.

"I don't know about that," Dean answered.

"Well, if I'm right and I think I am, I feel sorry for you, Dean." Sam took another shot and missed again. The guy might be a lot of things but he wasn't a good pool player.

"Wait. _You_ feel sorry for _me_? I'm not the one who took a vow of celibacy." Dean couldn't imagine living his life like that. Well, he could, because he had for a few years but that wasn't because he'd made a bizarre commitment to an invisible Dude in the sky.

Sam walked closer to Dean and leaned against the table beside him. "Like I said before: I'm more Demonologist than Priest. I've been given special dispensation for some things by the church."

For a while Dean pondered the implications of what Sam was saying. Through the haze of three or four beers, Dean found himself even more intrigued. "That's ... better than the whole celibacy thing then."

 _Stupid_.

Laughing, Sam shoved Dean out of the way and took another shot. He finally sank one.

-=-=-=-

By the time Dean was walking into Sam's apartment he'd had enough beer to leave the world around him seeming a bit more gentle than usual. Maybe that was why he'd gone with Sam in the first place.

Somehow, Sam had managed to get through the evening having consumed only two beers. He suggested that Dean should have some coffee before he went home.

How they'd ended up heading to Sam's was because Dean lived with his father. At his age, it was a little strange.

Dean looked around as Sam flicked on some lights and headed to the kitchen counter.

"Coffee? Soda?"

"Water," Dean answered. He walked over to the window and looked out. The view was of a small park. It was nice.

"It's a small place but I'm not here very often so it doesn't really matter." Sam appeared at Dean's side and held out a glass of water.

"Thanks." Dean turned back to face the combination living room, dining room and kitchen. "It's ... kind of spartan."

Sam smiled. "I have a sofa. Like I said, I'm not here very often. Sit?" Sam held out his hand and gestured towards the charcoal sofa.

Dean was glad to sit down. He was actually far more tired than he'd thought. It had been a bizarre week.

"How come you're never here? Out fighting... evil?" Dean couldn't help grinning.

"Just like Daredevil," Sam quipped.

"I can see that." Dean's smile faded a little as they slipped into silence.

"You probably spend a lot of time away from home, too?" Sam asked at just about the time Dean was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.

"Now more than ever," Dean murmured.

"How come?"

"My father." Dean sighed and had a sip of water.

"You live with him?"

"He stays with me right now."

"How'd that happen?" Sam turned to face Dean and pulled one leg up on to the sofa between them.

"It's complicated."

"Save that for another time too, then." Sam smiled and slipped cool fingers over Dean's wrist briefly.

The fleeting touch left Dean with an unexpected knot of pleasure in his chest. "You're different, Sam. I like that."

The slight smile on Sam's face was inviting; Dean liked that as well. 

"Different how?"

"You don't push. It's pleasant."

"There's no point in trying to pull things out of people when they're not ready to let go of them. Kind of a waste of energy, yeah?"

Dean nodded. "Anyway, it makes you more interesting.

Unless it was Dean's imagination, he thought that Sam had moved a little closer. When Dean turned to look he found himself face to face with Sam. He could see the strange coloration of Sam's irises. They were a green-brown color with golden flecks. He'd noticed before but this was the first time he'd been able to really look at them.

"You're a good man, Detective Winchester," Sam murmured.

As the heat of Sam's breath smoothed over Dean's cheek he felt the strange shiver again. The intensity of it was surprising and Dean took a quick breath in.

"You okay?" Sam asked. His hand slipped over Dean's as naturally as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

Even stranger, it felt to Dean as though it was completely comfortable and Dean wasn't used to letting his guard down around people. Keeping a little distance and protecting himself meant that his life was a lot less complicated.

Tearing his gaze away from Sam's, Dean took a couple of deep breaths as subtly as he could. "You're a bad influence on me."

Laughter sent hot breath ghosting over Dean's skin again and Sam squeezed his hand. "I think it's the other way around, Dean."

Dean was still shaking his head as he looked up again and found his lips brushing against Sam's.

Heat slithered through Dean's body and he gasped. _In over his head. Absolutely._

The slight distance that was left between them disappeared as Sam seemed to almost _fall_ into Dean's body.

The kiss deepened and Dean felt it everywhere in his body. He tilted his head slightly and Sam's lips parted invitingly. In spite of all the warning bells in his mind, Dean couldn't resist the soft fullness of Sam's mouth.

When Dean slipped his tongue forward his hand grabbed hold of Sam's bicep. The muscle flexed against Dean's palm and even through Sam's thin shirt Dean could feel the heat radiating off him.

Sam's fingers slid through Dean's hair and sent shivers down his spine. He had no idea what it was about Sam but he was like a source of electricity.

It made Dean forget all the things that he was doing were _very_ wrong for so many reasons.

Then when Sam's tongue slid against Dean's everything seemed to shift gears.

Sam pressed forward into Dean's chest and Dean let himself collapse against the arm of the sofa.

The weight of Sam's body made Dean's cock ache painfully. He wasn't used to being with men who were taller than him. Hell, he wasn't used to being with men anymore; it had been a long time.

The smooth tips of Sam's fingers made it under the hem of Dean's t-shirt and all of Dean's muscles fluttered. He could feel the blood racing around in his veins as he wrapped his arms around Sam. His fingers dug into the hard, muscled back under his hands, he couldn't help it.

Their lips were crushed together for a few heartbeats then Sam gentled the kiss. His hips pressed forward against Dean's as his tongue swept slowly along Dean's bottom lip.

 _Want_ was firing through Dean's veins, heating up his entire body and his heart was beating so fast he started to feel a little dizzy.

"Sam..." Dean's mouth slid from Sam's and moved along his stubbled cheek.

Sam didn't say anything; he didn't have to. It was all clear in the grip of his hands and the way he was pressed up against Dean's body.

Panting softly against Sam's ear, Dean felt the familiar weight of anxiety settling down on him. 

Something had clearly tipped Sam off to the change in Dean's mindset because he froze for a few moments.

After the longest couple of seconds imaginable, Sam let out a frustrated sigh and pulled away. His head hung heavy between his shoulder blades for a few moments then he fell back to sit on the sofa beside Dean.

There hadn't been a moment all night when Dean had felt truly uncomfortable and yet he suddenly felt awkward as hell.

"Is it the _Father_ thing?" Sam asked as he smoothed his tousled hair back from his face.

Dean wasn't sure _what_ it was. It certainly wasn't that he didn't _want_ Sam. The whole religion thing hadn't mattered when compared to the heat of Sam's mouth.

Shaking his head, Dean smiled slightly and glanced at Sam before looking away quickly from the flush on Sam's cheeks. "No. _No_. It's not. I mean, it's late and we - I've been drinking."

"Right," Sam answered softly.

The small condo felt warm to Dean and he straightened his shirt as he sat up. "Work. You know."

When Sam nodded his hair swept forward again and Dean couldn't see his face. "Sorry if I overstepped -"

" - nothing like that - "

" - it's fine. Conflict of interest and all of that." Sam edged a little further away from Dean.

The work aspect of it hadn't even come up in Dean's mind. He supposed it could be awkward. Really? It was about Dean's brain and the way he tried to live his life. There just wasn't room for any more complication.

There was entirely too much silence and the beer Dean had consumed was beginning to feel like lead in his stomach. "I better go."

Sam stood quickly. "I can drive you."

Sam had driven Dean's car. _Right._ "I'm okay. I'm - I can drive. If not I'll walk and pick up my car in the morning before work." Dean looked around and saw the keys on the coffee table and picked them up before it could become an issue. 

He stood carefully and gave his head a little shake. "Thanks for -" What the hell was he thanking Sam for? Exposing him to the horrifying exorcism recording? The way he'd never be able to look at the guy again without remembering how solid and hard Sam's body was?

Their gazes met for a few seconds then Sam turned away and headed for the door.

Dean adjusted his jeans so they were more comfortable then rubbed a balled-up fist into his eye as he followed behind Sam.

The door swung open and Dean couldn't even tell what he was feeling. It was the most bizarre mixture of regret and relief: the story of Dean's personal life. 

Sam's hand rested on Dean's shoulder briefly. "Be safe."

Managing a slightly warmer smile, Dean pulled the door open. "I'm a cop."

Sam tilted his head slightly. "I think you're much more than that."

The moment seemed right for Dean to get the hell out. He was still wondering what Sam meant as he strode down the hallway.

He didn't slow his pace until the first lungful of cool evening air slowed his heart rate a little. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked down the street. He would chalk the whole thing up to too much beer.

"Fuck," he murmured. He was relieved when he saw the car and leaned against it for a while to suck in some more fresh air. He was going to be really tired in the morning.

He just hoped that Jody wouldn't be too chipper when he spoke to her at work or he might have to kill her.

-=-=-=-

Morning came far too early and Dean woke up feeling agitated. His eyes felt scratchy and his head was aching. Apparently, he was getting too old for a handful of beers on a work night.

He spent almost twenty minutes standing under the hot water in the shower. It didn't do much to settle his mind but it made his headache feel slightly better. He toweled off and got dressed quickly. The sooner he got the morning over with the better.

Just as Dean was about to leave the bedroom he heard the sound of static. He shook his head and tried to focus on something else. He was either going crazy or there was something wrong with his hearing. That had to be the explanation.

The sound intensified and Dean covered his ears for a few moments. When he turned slowly a movement caught his eye. His head snapped towards the mirror and he jumped back from the man that appeared there.

 _Crowley_.

Just as quickly the face was gone and Dean rubbed at his eyes. It was just his mind playing tricks on him. He'd fought to get _everything_ about that man out of his mind. It had to be the stress of recent events that was causing him to think about the past case. He needed to get some real decent sleep and go for a run a few times a week; that was all. He needed his life to be more normal.

"Fuck," he murmured. He turned towards the door again and took a deep breath.

By the time he was downstairs all he could think about was a steaming cup of coffee; that would improve his morning and get his brain on the right track.

It was past nine when he reached the bottom of the stairs and listened for his dad.

Yes. He was a fully grown man and was trying to avoid his father because he didn't want to talk about anything.

The house was quiet and Dean headed to find his boots and make some coffee. He need at least two cups before he could face his partner.

"You were out late," came his father's low, rumbling voice from the kitchen. 

_Perfect._

"Morning, Dad," Dean said gruffly. "I was. I was out." The thought of trying to explain the evening and how he'd nearly ended up in bed with a priest who wasn't completely a priest did Dean's mind in.

"You look tired." John got up and poured another coffee then set it on the table in front of an empty chair. "Have a seat, son."

The last thing Dean wanted was a belated father-son chat. He especially didn't need it after a night that had confused the hell out of him.

"Sit," John said more firmly.

Dean sighed and pulled the chair out so he could sit down. He picked up the mug of coffee and took a drink even though it was too hot. The sooner he finished it, the sooner he could leave. 

"I have to go to work, Dad."

There was a warm smile on John's face. "We've hardly had a conversation since I got here. Startin' to think you're avoiding me."

The muscles in Dean's shoulders tightened as he stared down at his mug. He shook his head. "There's just some crazy stuff going on at work. It's nothing personal."

"You were out till the early hours of the morning. Feels like you don't want to come back to your own home."

If circumstances were different Dean would have thought his Dad was giving him a good opening to begin a conversation about their relationship and how it had been practically non-existent for a very long time. But he hadn't had enough caffeine to be generous of spirit. "Dad, I'm not a rebellious teenager anymore. I don't stay out late to avoid you."

John smiled sadly and took a sip of coffee before speaking again. "I'm just worried about you, Son. We've been apart a long time but i can still tell when something is bothering you."

There might be some truth to John's statement but Dean would have no idea where to begin. It had been a brutal week. His normal weeks weren't all that great but recently things had become a lot more complicated. "Work is sometimes really hard, Dad. The things I see..."

Dean wasn't sure there was a way to explain the kinds of things he had to see as part of his job. There were some days when it was too much. Dean wasn't sure how he managed to get any sleep at night.

"You just seem really preoccupied, Dean." John's brow was furrowed.

"I am, Dad." Dean held onto his mug a little tighter as he tried to control his temper. "I'm preoccupied with the shit that I see. Dead babies, left out in the cold; murdered kids, just this week I saw a woman try to kill her own child."

The look of horror on John's face was was a good indication that Dean had gone a little too far. He closed his eyes for a while so he could collect his thoughts.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I know part of the reason you came here was to spend some time with me but this is a terrible time. This case I'm on ... it's making me crazy."

Staying silent, John simply nodded. "I should be movin' on soon anyway. Maybe I could come back later. Things might be a little more settled for you then."

Guilt began to scratch at the back of Dean's throat. There was a little bit of regret there too. He really hadn't intended to chase his father away; he just needed a little time.

"Listen, Dad. Stick around a while longer, okay? I'll get this case put to bed and then maybe you and I could go fishin'. Like we used to?"

John finally looked up and his eyes warmed. "Yeah? You sure?"

"Yeah. I think it'd be good." What kind of surprised Dean was that he meant it. He _did_ want to spend some time with his father. A lot of stuff had happened between them over the years and it was past due time to put some of that behind them.

"Alright then." John smiled. "I'll try and stay out of your hair. Maybe I'll work on that back yard of yours. It's a mess."

Laughing, Dean drained his coffee then pushed back from that table. "You do that, old man. I'll check up on your progress."

It was nice to hear his father laugh. When Dean stood he patted his father on the back a couple of times. "Behave."

As Dean headed down the hall he rubbed at the back of his neck. One hurdle down, but there were quite a few more to conquer before the day was over.

-=-=-=-

When Dean poked his head through the door to the video room where Jody was he was more than a little surprised to see Sam sitting with her.

"Winchester. Finally." Jody beamed a huge smile at her partner. "Sam and I were just talking about you."

"Awesome," Dean muttered as he stepped past Jody then Sam to get to the remaining chair. It was placed far too close to Sam's chair but there wasn't much room to begin with.

Sam angled his head slightly so he could make eye contact with Dean. "Jody was here when I checked in this morning. She asked me to take a look at the video to see what I thought of it."

Dean _should_ have been paying attention to what Sam was saying but it was pretty difficult when Sam was staring at him. "Yeah."

Jody's face appeared from behind Sam's shoulder. "Sam had a late night last night so I made the coffee extra strong."

There was definitely a knowing glint in Jody's eyes. As soon as Sam looked down at his coffee, Dean narrowed his gaze at Jody and mouthed, "Fuck off."

Still grinning, Jody stood and stepped over her chair. "I'll get you a coffee, Dean."

"No, it's okay," Dean said quickly but his partner was already gone.

Sam looked over at Dean again. "Hope you don't mind me being here."

"Of course not," Dean said a little too quickly. Sure, he'd said no at first but it really did make sense.

"It's just you left so quick last -"

"- It's all good -"

"- I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Sam finished.

Dean nodded. "Listen, I didn't -"

"Here's your coffee." Jody reached in front of Sam and held out a mug towards her partner.

Dean grabbed the mug and took a drink before he could say anything else. The more he spoke, the greater the possibility he would put his foot firmly in his mouth.

Jody's phone rang and she answered it as she stepped out of the room again.

Dean set his coffee down and sighed. "We should watch the video."

"Okay." Sam smiled and turned back to face the flat screen in front of them.

"I need to tell you something, though. We got some lab results back. The blood on the wall from the Zoo was Adam Milligan's."

There was immediate recognition on Sam's face. "Her husband?"

Dean nodded. "He was there. He's in the video." There really wasn't a lot more that Dean could say about it.

The room was too damned silent so Dean leaned forward and started the playback.

The scene at the Zoo had become familiar to Dean and he hated it. He watched the screen as Jo moved into the image. This time his eyes were focused on the man at the writing-covered wall. This was the man that Dean now knew had to be Adam Milligan.

Dean leaned in closer and watched as Adam Milligan started to stare down his own wife. The Marine stood there looking relaxed and loose as he watched his wife lift their child and let him drop into the enclosure.

As Dean watched Jo run out of the image the sound of static began to creep back into Dean's mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists on his thighs.

"Dean?" Sam's hand pressed to Dean's shoulder.

When he opened his eyes Dean watched the screen and saw Milligan stare _right_ ito the camera and then he smiled.

"The fucker _knew_ we'd be watching this," Dean said gruffly. He couldn't stand the smug expression on Milligan's face.

Sam's fingers tightened on Dean's shoulder.

Then Crowley's face appeared again and Dean shot back from the screen so quickly that Sam was knocked sideways.

As he scrambled back onto his seat, Sam reached out for Dean's hand. "What was it, Dean?"

Eyes wide and unblinking Dean grabbed Sam's shirt. "You saw that, right?"

"Saw what?" Sam shook his head slowly, brow furrowed with deep lines. "Milligan?"

"No," Dean said weakly.

"Dean, what did you see?"

"A man. A man I arrested." It was as much of the truth as Dean could get out and he would have managed that much. If anyone else were sitting beside him.

The static was beginning to fade away and Dean tore himself away from Sam so that he could slam his hand down on the video controls to turn it off. For some reason he was panting and he could feel his heart thumping away in his chest.

Sam sank back onto his seat and blew out a long breath. "He's recruiting."

"What?" The feeling of horror in Dean's mind grew.

"The curse. The curse that opens the door for evil. He's spreading the message. Even to his own wife."

Dean ran a hand over his hair and closed his eyes again. He had no idea what to believe at that point. He felt like he couldn't trust his own eyes and all the insane-sounding things that Sam had been saying were beginning to seem like the most truth that was available.

When Dean looked up he could feel his throat tighten. There was nothing but warmth in Sam's eyes.

"Dean. You can _see_ things that other people can't see. I've been watching you. It's called _discernment of spirits_ by the Jesuits."

The words crept gently into Dean's ears and he sat there staring into the eyes of the man he hardly knew.

"You need to be careful, Dean. This ability you have, it makes you a target."

"A target." Dean felt as though it was just one more thing to pile on top of all the shit he was already carrying around with him.

Maybe Sam was right and the _radar_ that Dean had relied on for his entire career could be exactly what Sam was telling him. But that meant that Dean's rattled mind had to begin to accept that the rest of the mystical and crazy shit that Sam had talked about had to be real.

"Dean?" Sam cupped Dean's cheek with his palm and smiled slightly.

The next breath Dean took caught in his throat. All he could do was gaze back at Sam.  
The door flung open and Jody peered in the room as the men moved away from one another.

"The military finally released the men's medical records," Jody said almost breathlessly.

Dean nodded. "And?"

"Well, I have an address." Jody held up a piece of paper and waved it. She looked very determined.

Dean stood as he tried to shake off the video, and the appearance of the one criminal he had _never_ wanted to see again. "Let's go then. Sam? You'll have to stay outside the building at first, but you want to come along?"

Sam finally looked away from Dean for a few moments. He nodded and smiled wryly at Jody. "I'm in."

-=-=-=-

They took Dean's car and parked outside the building that housed Milligan's apartment. After ordering Sam to stay in his car, Dean headed into the building with Jody.

When pounding on the door didn't produce anyone, Jody went down to get keys from the building manager.

The instant Dean pushed the door open he could smell something wretched. For a few seconds Dean had to cover his mouth and nose.

"What the _fuck_?" Jody hissed.

"Disgusting," Dean muttered as he pushed the door further open.

The place had basically been destroyed. The furniture was all overturned; the carpet was torn up in some places and there were household items broken and discarded all over the room.

"Must be the cleaner's day off," Jody said at Dean's shoulder.

Everywhere Dean looked things were torn apart and broken into pieces. He even saw what looked like a pile of shit in one corner and looked away in disgust.

They cleared the room and Dean moved towards the hallway. The first room he came across was the kitchen and Dean gagged as he stepped inside. The fridge was tipped over, the door hanging open and all kinds of disgusting looking things had slid out and pooled on the floor. It was clear there was no one in the room.

It only took the two Detectives a few minutes to discover there was no one else in the apartment. They put everything back that way it had been when they'd arrived and they left quickly. Dean was hoping that Milligan would show his face.

Jody agreed to watch the back entrance to the building and Dean headed back down to his car and a potentially long wait in a confined space with Sam.

Sam had been stretched out in the back seat and Dean watched as he urged his tall frame back into the front of the car. He hadn't noticed before but Sam moved _easily_ as though he was completely relaxed.

On the other hand, Dean was _not_ relaxed. In fact, he was very tense. He wanted to find Milligan and arrest the asshole. He also wanted to clear the air with Sam. However, the odds of both those things happening seemed unlikely. The week certainly hadn't been going Dean's way.

"I'm worried about you," Sam said as soon as he was settled.

"What?" Usually, it took longer for people to realize that Dean was a complete mess.

"When you sense things the way you do it can be dangerous." Sam frowned and turned slightly on the seat so he could make eye contact with Dean.

"Dangerous," Dean echoed. Aware that he was only saying single words he cleared his throat. "My whole life is dangerous."

Smiling as though he were humoring Dean, Sam tilted his head slightly. "You're like a ... spiritual beacon. Because you can sense things, you're going to be a target. You should confess."

"Confess?" Dean was back to single words because _confess_? He might have been Catholic once for about five minutes but he'd never confessed. With the kind of stuff Dean had hanging over him he didn't need to start talking about it; he might never shut up.

"Confess. I _am_ a priest."

"An ... unusual one," Dean added quickly.

"Yes, but that doesn't change some things. I can still hear confession. You need to clear your conscience and it will be easier for you to face these things."

"These _things_ are basically just people. I've dealt with worse."

"It's not that simple, Dean. Once you confess you'll be less susceptible to evil. You _need_ to protect yourself." Brow furrowed, Sam leaned in a little closer.

Dean shook his head and turned his gaze back to the front door of the apartment building. He wasn't going to get into a huge philosophical debate with Sam.

"Who's Crowley?"

Dean shook his head. Just hearing the name made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"What involvement did you have with him?"

" _Now_ is _not_ the time, Sam." Dean rolled his neck to try and loosen up his tense muscles.

They were quiet for a while and Dean kept his eyes fixed on the building's front door. The light inside the building flickered and Dean narrowed his gaze but he couldn't see anything unusual.

Sam sighed and sank down on the seat. "Before I was on the right path I did a lot of drugs."

The confession surprised Dean a little. Sam didn't look the type.

"One night, I was with this guy. We were using heroin and having sex." Sam looked down at his lap.

For the first time since they'd met, Sam actually looked a little tense.

"It was all a blur," Sam continued. "We used. We fucked. It went on and on because we were so out of it."

When Sam paused, Dean looked over at him. "What happened?"

"The guy I was with overdosed and died. I was too messed up to even know. Someone must have called the police at some point. I remember waking up in the motel room to find it full of people in uniforms."

Everything Sam was admitting to sounded like it should be someone else's story. He'd only known Sam a short time but there was something reliable and solid about him and that didn't fit with someone who was a drug addict. Dean couldn't explain it but he trusted Sam.

"And ... here you are."

"Here I am," Sam echoed. "But there was a lot of soul searching in between."

"And the Jesuits?"

Sam's lashes were almost touching his cheeks and he nodded slightly. "The one thing I remember my advisor saying is that saints aren't moral exemplars."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So, priests ... none of you have to be perfect." It made a lot of sense to Dean but he'd never thought that the Church could be logical.

"Right." Sam reached over and touched his fingers lightly to the back of Dean's hand for a moment. "I am what I am but that doesn't mean there isn't a place for me on _this_ side of the spiritual fence."

"So, you get to have your cake and eat it too." Dean smiled and looked down at the spot Sam had touched. It was still tingling.

"I suppose if you consider being a Demonologist a _positive_ thing." There was a strange look on Sam's face. he looked almost worn as though he was exhausted just thinking about it all.

"You don't think it's positive?"

"What I sometimes accomplish is good. But this isn't something I would have chosen." Sam slid his fingers through his hair and smiled "Just like you didn't choose to sense the things you do."

"No, Sam. I definitely didn't." Dean still wasn't sure what kind of special ability he had but he already knew he didn't like it.

"That's why you need to unburden yourself. Whatever this guilt is that you carry around with you about Crowley -"

"- Not now, Sam."

"- You need to make time or this is even _more_ dangerous for you -"

A shape moved in the darkness near the building and Dean silenced Sam with a hand gripping his shoulder tightly.

Dean's radio stuttered to life and Jody's voice confirmed it was a possible suspect.

As soon as the radio clicked off, Dean opened his door. He was stopped by Sam's firm grip on his wrist. He looked back and met Sam's gaze.

"Dean, be careful. Things may not be what they seem. Keep an open mind about everything you see." Sam's fingers slipped off Dean's wrist slowly.

Frowning, Dean nodded then bolted out of the car. He ran towards the front of the building. The door was open and Dean pulled his weapon from its holster as he moved into the lobby. He could hear faint footsteps and froze near the first hallway.

Then the static began to creep into Dean's mind and set his nerves on edge.

"Dean." Jody's voice was good to hear.

Dean looked around the corner in time to see the elevator doors close in front of Adam Milligan's face." 

"Shit."

Jody appeared from the other end of the hallway with her gun drawn. She lowered it as she stepped in front of the elevator.

"I'll take the stairs," Jody said. "Radio me where the elevator stops."

"Yup." Dean stared up at the numbers lighting up above the muted, grey doors.

As Dean watched, the numbers ticked over and the elevator went up one floor at a time. Finally, as Dean held his breath, the numbers stopped on the 4th floor where the Milligan's apartment was.

Dean clicked his radio on. "Four, Jody, Four."

"Four. Copy," came Jody's reply. Then everything around Dean disappeared into biting static.

Dean pressed the cool metal of his gun to his forehead. The static was like acid eating away at his brain. "Fuck."

The elevator jolted to life again and when Dean managed to get his eyes open he could see the numbers going down.

He stepped forward and jammed his finger into the call button then stood back and watched as the elevator bypassed the Lobby without stopping. He could hear deep laughter coming from behind the door.

"Fuck." Dean tapped his mic again. "Mills! He's gone to the basement.

Dean ran towards the stairwell and shoved the door open.

There was no answer from his partner in between all the static accosting Dean. As he ran down the concrete steps he held onto the mic. "Mills!, Suspect in basement. Do you copy?"

"On my way." Jody's reply broke up and Dean could barely hear her.

Dean took a deep breath and then pushed the basement door open. He rolled along the wall into the room and had to grab his head with his free hand. The static built in Dean's mind until the blood felt like it was liquid metal in his veins.

The pain bit into Dean and he gasped for air as he struggled to hold his gun steady.

He pried his eyes open and looked around the dark basement. The room smelled of mildew and dust and Dean coughed.

There wasn't enough light him to see very far but there seemed to be a lot of junk in the huge room in the basement. There were tables overturned, chairs broken apart and pieces of lumber and boxes scattered everywhere.

The static sound was relentless and Dean found it difficult to focus his eyes. It took all his concentration to keep his gun trained on the open area ahead of him

His eyes moved slowly along the outline of shapes he could decipher in the dimly-lit space.

"As a cop, I've always had a pretty heavy hand." The voice came from somewhere off to Dean's right. The sound of it sent a shiver down Dean's spine. It sounded like his own voice; but something inside him still found the energy to deny it was even possible.

Something banged against the wall in the opposite direction and Dean spun around. His gun was shaking slightly in his trembling hand.

There was no one there.

"Jesus Christ," Dean murmured under his breath.

The sound of a piano came from deeper in the shadows. Dean moved forward slowly. It felt as though the pressure in the room was building and Dean's head felt like it was going to explode.

The piano sounded again, but the slam of the keys barely made it through the bursts of statics in Dean's ears. He could see the outline of a piano; there was no one there at all.

There were crunching sounds all around the room and Dean was sure he could hear wind. It couldn't be; there were no open windows and there sure as hell wasn't any fresh air in the stuffy room.

As soon as Dean turned to look behind him a heavy weight slammed into his back. He fell forward and landed hard on his knees. His gun skittered across the floor and a very strong arm slid around his neck.

In an instant all of Dean's air was cut off. He snatched and clawed at the arm that was looped around his throat and twisted his hips to try and dislodge his attacker.

It worked.

Dean's entire body weight landed _hard_ on the person who was now below him. When he looked down he recognized the face; it was Roman.

The man's black hair was greasy and stuck to his cheeks. His eyes were dark and his pupils dilated so wide there was no color left. But it was the expression on Roman's face made Dean pull back and try to scramble away.

There was a glint of light on something slicing through the air in front of Dean's face. He swiped at it with his arm and was rewarded with the bite of a metal blade in his forearm.

The two men were locked together again as they wrestled for control.

The sound of wind in the room was insanely loud and Dean's eyes were gritty with dust and dirt. It was getting a little hard to breathe the air and his chest was aching.

Roman let out an inhuman growl and managed to throw Dean back against the piano. The keyboard cover slammed down and Dean could feel the sound of it vibrating through his body.

He swung at Roman's jaw but the blow glanced off stubble and Dean managed to grab the material of Roman's loose jacket.

The two men rolled sideways and Roman managed to get his arm around Dean's neck again. As the hold tightened on Dean's throat he kicked his legs out to try and jerk himself free.

There was a roaring sound around them as all the air seemed to race out of the room suddenly. In an instant there was an overwhelming crashing sound and glass imploded into the room from all the street level windows.

Dean clawed at the arm around his throat as his vision began to blur and darken. The ache in his lungs was almost unbearable, and Dean knew if he didn't break the hold he was going out. He didn't want to think about what might happen to him then.

For some reason, Dean thought he could hear someone calling his name. It was strange, a voice that sounded familiar but too far away to reach him in time.

_Sam._

Then the voice got louder and it wasn't Dean's name anymore. He recognized some of the words but others seemed misplaced and strange.

_Turn back the evil upon my foes;  
in your faithfulness destroy them. _

_Freely will I offer you sacrifice;  
I will praise your name, Lord, for its goodness, _

_Because from all distress you have rescued me,  
and my eyes look down upon my enemies._

_Glory be to the Father.  
As it was in the beginning. _

Dean realized that the hold on his neck had loosened and he gasped in a few breaths as Sam's voice faded. By the time the tempest around him had settled Dean was finally able to scramble towards Roman. He pushed at the limp body until he could slap his cuffs around Roman's wrists. The man let out a slight groan and that was it.

When he was certain that Roman was out, Dean fell back onto his ass.

Sam was by his side in an instant. "You're hurt."

Dean let out a weak chuckle. "No shit. Thought I told you to stay outside."

For the briefest instant Sam looked annoyed then he smiled slightly. His hands grasped Dean's shoulders as he tried to help him up.

"Jody," Dean muttered. His hands slapped his radio. "Mills! Respond!"

Sam's gaze met his as they both listened to the radio silence. All Dean could hear was the thunderous sound of his own heartbeat. His partner would answer if she could; she knew the protocol.

Fear marred Sam's features and he gripped Dean's jacket so he could haul him up.

Trying to get his bearings, Dean leaned on Sam for a few moments before stumbling forward. Nearly every part of his body hurt like hell. If it hadn't been for Sam coming in Dean would have been in deep trouble.

"Dean?" The strain in Sam's voice was very apparent and Dean glanced over his shoulder.

"Be careful, Dean. This is worse than anything I've seen in a very long time."

Nodding, Dean limped back across the room and headed out the doorway. It took him a while to clear the cobwebs out of his mind. The stairwell; he needed to find the stairwell. When he'd last spoken to Jody she's been racing down the stairs.

The door was heavy and Dean had to shoulder it open.

When it finally creaked open,Dean blew out a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. The stairs seemed to go on forever and his abused body was already approaching its limit. 

He started up the stairs. It was a half stumble-half lunge that got him up every step. If Jody wasn't answering him something was wrong. And with the kind of guys they were dealing with, _wrong_ could be really fucking bad.

The sound of his boots on the concrete steps rang up the hollow stairwell. The lights were still flickering and every now and then Dean would stumble when the step seemed to disappear for a moment.

"Mills!" He could hear his own voice echo up the walls. Desperation gave him a burst of adrenaline and he managed a faster climb for a couple of flights. Then he heard something.

Dean froze and cocked his head to the side. He heard his name.

"Jody?" Pushing himself up step after step Dean finally rounded a corner and nearly fell over his partner.

Jody was lying along three or four steps with one arm hooked through the railing and one leg under her.

Dean's eyes lingered on Jody's neck for a heartbeat before the sight of blood sliding down her neck jolted him into action.

The concrete step was unforgiving under Dean's already bruised knees when he sank down beside his partner. His hand was at his radio immediately. "Officer Down. Repeat. Officer down. 432 Obed Avenue. Send a bus immediately."

Confirmation came back quickly but Dean hardly noticed it. His hand was pressed tightly over the gash in Jody's neck while he tried to see if she was injured anywhere else.

"Dean. It was Milligan."

Nodding, Dean pulled up the front of Jody's blood soaked shirt and revealed another stab wound. He grabbed his partner's hand and pushed it flat against her stomach. "Put pressure here. You're not getting out of workin' with me that easily."

Jody's face twisted up with pain for a few moments then her eyes locked with Dean's. "Did you hear me? Dying declaration. It was Adam Milligan who stabbed me."

Fear rattled through Dean's body and he nearly choked when he tried to swallow. "You are _not_ dying, Jody. Suck it up and hang in there."

Dean leaned his chin against his radio mic and took a deep breath. "Can I get an ETA on that bus?"

The crackly reply came quickly: _Four minutes_.

"You hear that?" Dean smoothed Jody's short hair back from her already pale forehead. "Four minute is a cakewalk."

"You heard me, right? Milligan." There was a waver in Jody's voice and Dean shifted so he could kiss her forehead and still keep pressure on her neck. "I heard you, love. Just hang in there, okay? I need you around."

Mills was more than just a partner to Dean. His world was pretty limited and his partner was a big part of it. She was the balance Dean needed.

Off in the distance Dean could hear sirens. He pressed his lips to Jody's hair and spoke softly. "Almost here, girl."

Dean closed his eyes and spoke silently to whoever the hell might be listening.

-=-=-=-

Dean spent a long time in the family waiting room until he had finally snapped and yelled at a rather impatient nurse. She had taken him past the locked doors to speak to Jody's surgeon. They had performed some really significant surgery on her but she was alive and in ICU. 

When Dean finally got in to see her it was only because he'd used his authority and his badge a couple of times. His partner didn't look great. She was still pretty pale and there were all kinds of wires and tubes going in and out of her body. The only thing that gave Dean any comfort at all was the steady beep on the heart monitor.

He could feel tears burn at his eyes when he leaned down and kissed Jody's forehead. The damn case was going to take everything from him: his sanity, his life, his partner.

Fortunately, there was a very patient resident assigned to Jody. She spoke to Dean about his partner's condition and persuaded him to let her “practice” her stitching on his forearm. The Detective wasn't stupid. He knew that the young doc realized she probably wouldn't get Dean to go and wait in the ER for the help he needed.

For a while, the two of them chatted while the resident worked. She stitched up the slash on Dean's arm and cleaned out the scratches on his face. When he had finally looked in the mirror he'd looked far worse than he'd expected. It was a bit of a shock to find out that he didn't look much better than his unconscious partner.

After extracting a promise from the resident that she would text him if there was any change in Jody's condition, Dean headed up to the roof for some fresh air. He pushed the heavy door open and took a deep breath before realizing he wasn't alone.

"Dean! I looked everywhere for you," Sam said. He was dressed in beat-up jeans and an old t-shirt and the wind was whipping at his hair. He paced forward and circled his arm over Dean's shoulder and pulled him into his arms.

For a few moments, Dean was taken aback then he let himself relax into the strength of Sam's embrace. It felt good and, honestly, it was the safest Dean had felt in days. That he was rattled wasn't something that Dean liked to admit. His hands moved slowly to Sam's back and he gripped the soft t-shirt he was wearing. They just held on for the span of a few heartbeats then Sam stepped back and held Dean at arm's length. "Is Jody... ?"

Dean took a painful breath in and lifted his gaze so he could see Sam's face. "She's in ICU. Critical but stable. They had to open her up and stop the bleeding. And stuff. She's. She's a tough woman."

Sam nodded. "She is. She seems really strong. And you?" Sam slid two fingers along Dean's cheek and winced.

Dean had managed to forget how horrible he looked. His right eye was black, there were cuts and scrapes all over his face and neck. He was pretty beat up. Even though he'd put up with stitching, he'd refused x-rays. He knew his arm wasn't broken; he'd broken bones before. He was battered to shit but hadn't gone through anything near what Jody had. He should never have let her go down the stairs alone.

"This isn't on you," Sam said quietly.

A little surprised, Dean shook his head. "You a mind reader as well as a Jesuit?"

"They teach a course on it. Seemed like it would come in handy." Sam smiled warmly.

If Dean's chest didn't ache so badly he would have laughed. He _liked_ Sam and that made him feel good and bad at the same time.

"Sam? What the hell happened tonight?" The entire day was a bit of a jumbled-up blur in Dean's mind. What he _did_ know was that _nothing_ was going the way it should and half of it was just completely unbelievable.

_Unbelievable._

Only it was very believable at the same time because Dean had seen it all with his own eyes. Milligan had gone into the elevator but somehow he'd ended up in the stairwell. Dean was still picking glass out of his clothes from the blown-in windows. The flashing lights, the cacophony of sound: it was all crazy.

"Dean, this is _real_ evil. We're dealing with something that has a lot of power and you're ... sensitive to it all. The exact thing that alerted you to it is probably what becomes so overwhelming." The sad look was back on Sam's face again and it made Dean's chest ache even more. 

Sam's smiled disappeared then reappeared quickly and he let go of Dean's arms. He sighed and looked down for a moment. "The view is nice from up here. That's why I headed here when I couldn't find you."

The two men walked over to the edge of the roof and leaned on the tall wall that ran around the perimeter of the building. The city was stretched out below them and from way up high it looked almost innocent. It was all twinkling lights and the growl of distant engines and Dean relaxed a little. If only they could stay so far away from all of the crap that was going on at street level. But that wasn't a possibility.

"I want to confess."

Sam leaned back slightly and pressed his lips together. "Okay."

"You can do that? I mean. You're some weird kind of priest with different ... rules. And this isn't exactly a church."

"It counts." Sam nodded again. "It's the intent behind it that matters to God."

A smile flitted across Dean's face and he looked down at his hands. His fingers were twisted together so tightly that his knuckles were white. He shifted over a little to put some distance between himself and Sam. It seemed right, somehow, not to feel the heat of Sam's arm resting against his.

Time got away from Dean and he wasn't sure how long it took him to speak. After a while he just went with the first thing that came into his mind. "As a cop, I've always had a pretty heavy hand..."

The echo of his own voice ... the _exact_ phrase Dean had heard in the basement ricocheted through his mind. But they were the right words and time had somehow wrapped itself up all wrong.

Dean cleared his throat. "I made a big mistake. Crowley. Crowley was my mistake. Three years ago I was the one who found his last victim. She was nine years old and he ... he murdered her after he ..." Dean couldn't bring himself to say it outloud. That little girl had suffered so much and Dean hadn't been able to help her. No one had.

"I remember the case," Sam said to draw Dean out of his silence.

"It was all over the TV when he was arrested: eleven cases of sexual assault on minors, three murders. He'd left her, this little girl, in a garbage can. Right in front of a huge office building downtown. All these people saw her." Dean could still see the crime scene when he closed his eyes. It was so clear sometimes he could swear it was right in front of him again.

Dean finally managed to make eye contact with Sam again. "It was early in the morning and I looked over my shoulder at the crowd that had gathered around the crime scene. And he was there. We could have pulled him in earlier but my captain leaned on us. He wanted us to be patient to make sure we got it right."

 _Get it right._ That was certainly not what had happened.

Dean rubbed his knuckles across his mouth before continuing. "When I saw him he was smiling. The fucker was pleased with himself and all the attention he was getting. Proud. I snapped and I ran at him."

Dean wasn't proud of the way he'd let Crowley get under his skin. "I could have fucked up the case. He could have walked. I ran at him and he took off. He ducked down this side road. I caught up with him pretty quick and I tackled him. I took him down hard and his face was all bloody from the concrete." Dean swallowed hard.

"But I didn't stop there. I hit him. I punched him on the jaw. He wasn't really doing much, just trying to grab my hands. But I hit him again and again because all I could see was his smile and the body of that little girl."

The sound of his fist striking Crowley's face still wung in Dean's ears. He could smell the damp, dirty alley, the spicy scent of blood and he could feel the burn of it all in his gut.

"I nearly killed the guy. Someone pulled me off him. Another officer, I think."

"Were you suspended?"

Nodding, Dean sighed and closed his eye. He let his head fall back for a while and when he opened his eyes again he could see the dark sky above them. When he finally looked back down Sam was waiting patiently. "Pending review. I think I only kept my damned job because of how horrific his crimes were. It wasn't like public opinion would be in his favor."

"And?"

Sam always seemed to know when there was more. Dean wondered briefly if that was another course for Jesuits. "It was the first time I heard the static. I could feel that he was standing there in the crowd before I turned around and saw him. But Sam? I just wanted to keep beating that man."

The two men were silent for a while and Dean took a few deep breaths to slow his racing heart.

"Was Crowley guilty?"

Dean nodded. "Absolutely. There was DNA evidence, two witnesses and, eventually, he bragged about everything."

"What you did wasn't justice," Sam said. "It was revenge and that will eat you alive from the inside out if you don't let it go." Sam's brow was furrowed and he shook his head slowly.

Maybe some things were too big for absolution. Dean had half-expected that. What he hadn't expected were the next words out of Sam's mouth. "Deus, Pater misericordiárum, qui per mortem et resurrectiónem Fílii sui mundum sibi reconciliávit et Spíritum Sanctum effúdit in remissiónem peccatórum, per ministérium Ecclésiæ indulgéntiam tibi tríbuat et pacem. Et ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

Dean knew what the words meant even if he didn't understand all of them. Just like that he felt an unearned relief that he hadn't felt for a really long time. For once, his shoulders felt a little lighter too.

"If I'd known it was that easy," Dean muttered. But he knew by the look on Sam's face that they both knew it was anything _but_ easy. The story had been firmly embedded in Dean's guilt for a very long time. For some reason Sam had been the right person to extract the truth from Dean and it had happened at the right time.

"Anytime," Sam said after a while. There was warmth on his face. "Only maybe just lighter stuff in the future."

"Lighter? You've seen my life, Sam. It's a mess."

"Speaking of messes," Sam began. "Jo's here. Somehow she managed to sink her teeth into one of the psychiatrists at the center. There was an altercation and she was hurt. I need to check on her."

Dean nodded and turned to look out over the city again.

"If you need me -" Sam slid his fingers along the wall until their hands were pressed together.

"I'm alright. I need...I don't know. Sleep? A few beers on my couch with my dad?"

Sam leaned in closer and his breath was warm on Dean's cheek. "I'll be home later. Come and see me. We can...talk some more. You can sleep there if you want."

Warmth spread through Dean's body in a huge flush and he turned his head slightly and let his lips brush against Sam's chin. "More talkin', huh?"

"I'm flexible." Sam sighed and closed his eyes for a few moments. "I gotta go."

"I've got your number." Dean stepped back and smiled.

"Use it."

Dean knew full well that he would use the number but he figured it couldn't hurt to buy himself a little more time to talk himself out of starting a relationship with Sam.

Walking backwards a few steps, Sam held his hand up and waved. "Be careful."

"I'm going to go home and shower, take off some of these bandages." Dean scratched at the gauze that was wrapped tightly around his forearm.

Sam turned and walked back to the roof door. "Leave the bandages alone," he called out.

Chuckling, Dean took a last look at the city before heading down to his car.

-=-=-=-

The Impala was Dean's second home and he felt good behind the wheel. He pulled out of the parking lot at the hospital and signalled to head out onto the road.

The window creaked when Dean rolled it down. The air was refreshing and cool and Dean took a deep breath.

He pulled out onto the street and leaned down to turn on the radio. _Music_. Music would make almost any day a little better.

There was a tremendous crash in the car and Dean lurched back up and twisted the steering wheel to the side instinctively.

He slammed on the brakes and the car skidded forward at an angle for a while before stopping.

Panting, Dean rested his head on the steering wheel. "What the fuck?"

When he finally looked up there was a dark shape molded into his shattered windshield. It was shaped like a body.

"You've _got_ to be shitting me," Dean said in a near whisper.

He yanked on the door handle and pushed it open. As he walked around the front of the car he could see a broken and twisted body splayed across his windshield. Long, blonde, hair was fanned out around the person's head and Dean leaned in closer. 

It was Jo. Dean couldn't see anything that indicated that Jo was breathing so he pressed his fingers to a blood-covered wrist. There was no pulse.

"Holy shit." Taking a couple of steps back, Dean shoved his hand into his hair and stared open-mouthed at Jo's lifeless body. He looked back up and stared at the roof where he and Sam had been standing such a short time ago. _Jesus_.

Eventually, Dean's instinct took over and he yanked his phone out of his pocket and called in.

"Jumper landed on my windshield. Deceased. Name is Jo Harvelle. Send a bus, CSI and a couple of squad cars."

He hung up and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

Just when he thought his life couldn't get any more complicated. He looked up at the hospital again. There were no windows open so Jo had to have jumped from the roof. What were the odds that it would be _Dean_ driving along the road and becoming her landing pad?

There were already sirens in the distance and Dean walked back around to the driver's side of the car so he could turn the ignition off.

The ring tone of his phone made him jump and he smacked his head on the roof as he straightened up. He pulled the phone back out of his pocket and checked the screen. It was his own landline, so it was John.

Dean tapped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear. "Dad, you're not gonna believe what just happened to me."

"I have him," said an unfamiliar voice.

"Dad?" But Dean already knew he wasn't speaking to his father. He knew because his guts were knotted up and he could hear the fucking static again. This time he knew the static wasn't on the phone, it was in his head.

"I have him," the voice said again.

The sound of the voice grated on Dean's nerves. It sounded _really_ familiar but he couldn't quite place it. "Who is this?"

"It's your move, Dean." The instant the line went dead Dean realized the voice belonged to Adam Milligan. He'd heard it on the recording of the Marines.

Dean fumbled with his radio for a few moment while he stared at his phone. "This is Detective Dean Winchester. Badge H945. Requesting back-up at my residence of record. Immediately. There is an intruder in my house. One resident located there, John Winchester."

"Jesus _Christ_."

The voice behind Dean startled him. When he relaxed the automatic grip on his gun he saw Sam standing at the front of the car looking rather pale. "I...couldn't find Jo."

Already moving, Dean grabbed Sam's arm. "Where are your wheels?"

Sam lifted the hand holding his keys and pointed towards an old pickup truck.

Dean leaned into his car and pulled out his dash light. He grabbed Sam's arm again and began moving to the truck. "I'm driving."

"What's going on?" Sam pulled out of Dean's grip and paused briefly to look at Jo's body. He murmured something that Dean couldn't quite hear and then followed him.

With the sound of slamming doors ringing in his ears Dean hooked up his dash light and flicked it on then pulled out onto the road.

As he guided the truck through traffic, Dean updated Sam on what had happened. Well, he updated Sam on what he knew.

Fear had a good solid grip on Dean. He had seen what could happen to people in Adam Milligan's company. His father had been alone in the house and there was no way to tell if he was even alive.

"Almost there," Dean murmured. He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or his father.

"What do you think has happened, Dean?"

Sam had been so quiet that Dean had forgotten he was there.

"I don't know," Dean said the moment before he slammed on the brakes.

The truck skidded to a halt at an angle on Dean's driveway and he was climbing out of the truck as it was still rocking.

His gun was out of his holster by the time he reached the door. It was ajar and Dean landed hard against the doorframe with his weapon raised. He allowed himself one deep breath and then swung around so he could kick the door open.

At the end of the hallway Dean could see that the dining room table was upturned. He bit down hard on his bottom lip because he had to fight the urge to call out to his father.

Moving as quietly as he could, Dean headed down the hallway. He came to an abrupt stop when he reached the living room and saw Adam Milligan standing there.

The tall, blonde man was shirtless and the state of his body made Dean flinch back. There were symbols cut into Milligan's flesh. Some of them were familiar. There was a pentagram, a couple of different crosses, and the words and symbols of the curse that had become all too familiar to Dean.

Some of the wounds were so fresh that there was still blood trickling down from them.

When Dean managed to tear his eyes away from Milligan he looked around the trashed room. His heart felt like it froze when he saw his father's old leather jacket crumpled on the floor.

"You won't find him without us," Milligan hissed.

"Oh, you'll _tell_ me." Dean strode towards Milligan and swung his gun forward _hard_. It thudded into Milligan's temple.

"Dean!" Sam called out from somewhere behind him.

"Stay back, Sam!"

Even though Milligan's body had swung to the side under the force of Dean's blow he had begun to laugh.

The sound of the low grating chuckle made Dean's skin crawl.

When Milligan straightened up there was a cut on his temple. "Let us in, Dean. and we'll tell you where your father is."

"Tell me now," Dean yelled as he ran at Milligan again. He slammed his forearm against Milligan's throat and pushed as hard as he could. They stumbled once and then Milligan slammed into the wall.

The man laughed again and little drops of saliva spattered onto Dean's face. "Where is my father?"

Milligan shook his head very slowly from side to side. "You have to let us in first, Dean. And believe me, where he is? He doesn't have much time."

Dean's mind was racing. His father could be anywhere. He had no idea when Milligan had gotten his hands on him. The city was huge and John could be practically anywhere within a fifty mile radius.

The gun dropped out of Dean's hand and before it hit the hardwood his fist was slamming into Milligan's jaw.

Milligan barely seemed affected by the blow. His eyes were completely black and focused only on Dean's face.

Anger was a fire in Dean's chest and he punched again. His knuckles connected with Milligan's lips and blood splashed across his cheek.

"Tell me!" Dean yelled. His heart was racing and pressure was building in his head; it felt like it would explode.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice broke through to Dean and he froze with his fist drawn back to strike Milligan again.

"Dean," Sam said more quietly. "Don't give in to your anger. That won't help get your father back."

It took a few seconds for Dean to process what Sam was saying. He lowered his fist to his belt slowly then unhooked his cuffs.

Swallowing down the rage that was threatening Dean grabbed Milligan's wrist so he could twist it behind his back and cuff it.

Voices grew louder as a team of officers moved into the house. Someone took the cuffs from Dean's hands and then he felt Sam's grip on his shoulder.

He was guided away from the uniforms that were gathered around Milligan. The man was still calling out to Dean to _let them in_.

"Dean, listen to me." Sam's voice was insistent and he pressed Dean's back against the wall by the stairs. "Breathe."

For some reason Dean hadn't even noticed that he was holding his breath. He gasped and his lungs ached as they filled.

The warmth of Sam's hands circled around Dean's neck and their eyes met. "Dean, you can't let him get to you. He's trying to draw you into a battle you are guaranteed to lose."

As the words started to make sense to Dean he was able to douse the anger and collected his thoughts. "My dad."

Sam nodded. "There _is_ a way we can try to get him back. Do _not_ let him get to you." As he spoke, Sam smoothed his thumbs along the tense line of Dean's jaw.

Milligan's laughter rose above the cacophony of voices and footfalls and then it was gone as the officers removed him from the house.

"You with me, Dean?"

There was such honesty and strength in Sam's eyes that Dean felt himself relaxing. His shoulders sank down and when the last officer disappeared from the room, Dean pressed his forehead to Sam's cheek.

Dean slid a hand over Sam's hip then up along the soft cotton of his old t-shirt to the hard strength of his back.

"We can get your father back. We just need to resist the pull of that...thing."

Very slowly, Dean nodded. He cleared his throat and straightened up enough to meet Sam's gaze again. "What do we do?"

"My things are in the truck. Where are they taking Milligan?"

"The station." When Sam's hands moved to Dean's shoulders he took a step back and straightened his t-shirt.

"Okay," said Sam as he patted Dean's chest. "Then we go to the station."

-=-=-=-

There was a strange mood at the station when Dean arrived with the rest of the officers.. and Milligan.

Dean had a firm grip on the handcuffs as he walked into the reception area. He pushed Milligan forward, guiding him towards one of the private interrogation rooms.

Every moment they were walking felt like an hour wasted when Dean could be trying to find his father. Time was draining away and Dean felt like he was losing ground.

Sam kept pace with Dean. He was carrying a black leather shoulder bag that he'd retrieved from behind the seat in his truck.

As he rounded a corner in the hallway, Milligan muttered something and began to chuckle darkly.

The sounds was like sandpaper on Dean's already raw nerves. He shoved Milligan _hard_ into interrogation room number three.

Four other Detectives streamed into the room and pushed Milligan down into a solid wooden chair. They held him there as Sam and Dean stood in front of him.

Sam's voice was soft near Dean's shoulder as he began to pray. The words were almost too soft to hear but Dean focused on them. They all but drowned out the incessant static that had been plaguing Dean since he'd left the hospital.

For the briefest moment Milligan stilled and stared straight at Sam.

As the prayer continued softly, Milligan's agitation grew. He began to moan and the sound grew louder and louder until he let out a scream that sounded painful. He yanked his hands away from the Detectives and began to claw at his own face.

He managed to claw several gouges in his cheeks before the Detectives caught his wrists once more and restrained him.

When Milligan was firmly bound to the chair, Dean looked around the room. Sam nodded at him and Dean stepped forward. "Everyone out."

There were some surprised looks on his colleague's faces. "It's against procedure," one of the men said.

"Out," Dean repeated. "This is on me."

A low murmur continued from Milligan but his eyes were closed and, for the moment, he seemed relaxed.

"Dean?"

Dean walked backwards towards Sam's voice without taking his eyes off Milligan.

The door clicked shut behind the last of the Detectives and the room was silent for a few breaths.

"Dean, you need to leave me alone with him," Sam said quietly.

"What?" Dean tore his eyes away from Milligan to stare wide-eyed at Sam.

He was surprised to see that Sam was wearing a sash around his shoulders, held a large crucifix in one hand and a Bible in the other. _A Jesuit._ It hadn't seemed completely real to Dean until that moment.

"No," Dean said quietly.

"What?"

"No. I'm not leaving you in here alone. I'll help."

There was indecision on Sam's face at first then he leaned down and retrieved a second Bible from his bag. "Just read the responses. And Dean? Do _not_ talk to it; don't let it get in your head."

Dean nodded and looked down at the page the Bible was open to.

"Dean?" Sam's hand slid over Dean's shoulder. Long fingers squeezed hard enough to leave a bruise.

When Dean looked up the intense hazel eyes were locked on his own.

"Just read the responses and pray. Dean. Okay?" Brow furrowed, Sam leaned in a little closer.

"Okay...yes." Dean nodded. "We don't have much time."

Guiding Dean forward, Sam clutched the crucifix on top of the Bible. Light glinted off the silver cross and Dean could sense the static returning.

"There are six stages to an exorcism: Presence, Pretense, Breakpoint, Voice, Clash and Expulsion."

The word _exorcism_ slid into Dean's mind and settled there like a dead weight. They were really going to do it. For years Dean had ignored any kind of religious upbringing he'd had. Now, he was faced with relying on _faith_ to get his father back.

There were strange bubbling sounds coming from Milligan. His head was hanging heavy between his shoulders and there was blood dripping onto his tattered jeans.

"Dean. Concentrate on the words: the prayers. Don't listen to what it tells you. Just focus on us."

It hardly seemed possible but as Sam squared his shoulders he seemed even taller and more solid than he had before. He looked ready to take on anything and Dean hoped that kind of strength was enough.

Dean nodded once and gripped the Bible even tighter. His fingers were aching and Dean focused on that.

"This is the Presence now," Sam said softly. "We know it's here. It knows we know."

The air Dean sucked into his lung felts too hot and he couldn't help the way he shivered.

Sam spoke with a confidence that Dean wasn't sure he felt. "Do not remember, 0 Lord, our sins or those of our forefathers."

The slightest silence reminded Dean that he had responses to read. "And do not punish us for our offences."

Sam closed his eyes for a few moments, praying and then said, "And lead us not into temptation.”

"But deliver us from evil," answered Dean.

"Save this man your servant."

"Because he hopes in you, My God."

"Be a tower of strength for him, 0 Lord," Sam said.  
.  
Dean coughed as some dust flew into his face and caught up quickly. "In the face of the Enemy."

"Let the Enemy have no victory over him."

"And let the Son of Iniquity not succeed in injuring him."

Sam's voice took on a kind of peacefulness. "Send him help from the Holy Place, Lord."

" And give him Heavenly protection," responded Dean.

"Lord, hear my prayer." Sam lowered the Bible slightly and closed his eyes.

Dean hesitated as he watched Sam. "And let my cry reach you."

"May the Lord be with you-"

"- And with your spirit-"

"Let us pray," Sam said softly.

-=-=-=-

 

It was nearly impossible to hear the prayers that fell ceaselessly from their lips. But there was a rhythm to it that Dean could understand and focusing on it helped him to bear the pain of the noise in his head.

Nearly all that Dean could hear was the tornado made by the static rattling in his brain and the rage in Milligan's screams.

Sam held the crucifix in front of him and walked slowly towards Milligan.

Each step he took seemed to increase the volume of Milligan's yells. He writhed in the chair and seemed to be straining towards the crucifix while trying to retreat from it at the same time.

Sam began to speak again. At first it was difficult for Dean to make out the prayer but as he struggled to listen it all became clearer.

"Unclean Spirit! Whoever you are, and all your companions who possess this servant of God. By the mysteries of the Incarnation, the Sufferings and Death, the Resurrection, and the Ascension of Our Lord Jesus Christ; by the sending of the Holy Spirit; and by the Coming of Our Lord into Last Judgment, I command you: Tell me, with some sign, your name, the day and the hour of your damnation. Obey me in everything, although I am an unworthy servant of God. Do no damage to this creature, or to my assistants, or to any of their goods."

Dean's attention was locked on Sam's voice, the angle of his fingers around the silver cross, and the strength in his back. If nothing else, Dean had faith in Sam.

As Sam spoke he moved closer and closer to Milligan. "Behold the Cross of the Lord. Depart, Enemies!"

Dean was watching so intently he all but forgot the Bible in his hands. 

"Dean?"

Flipping the book back up Dean read, "Jesus, with ancient strength, with noble power, is conqueror."

"Lord, Hear my prayer."

"And let my cry reach you."

"May the Lord be with you," Sam said.

"And with your spirit," answered Dean.

"Let us pray: God, Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ, I invoke your Holy Name and suppliantly request you; Deign to give me strength against this and every other unclean Spirit which is tormenting this creature of yours. Through the same Lord Jesus. Amen."

The crucifix pressed gently to Milligan's forehead and it was like the room held its breath for the time between heartbeats.

A storm of sound rose up in the room and Dean felt it slam into his body.

The Bible he'd been holding close to his chest fell to the ground.

Adam leaned hard into the press of the crucifix and yelled so loudly that his voice broke.

The lights went out and for a few seconds Dean couldn't see anything at all. His hands moved over the floor in front of him until he found the Bible. "Sam?"

Dean didn't realize he was on his knees until he felt Sam's fingers ghost over his hair. He struggled up to his feet and drew closer to Sam unconsciously. The backup generator at the station kicked in and a small light came on behind them.

"The Pretense," Sam whispered. His hand rested on the small of Dean's back for a few moments before he took a step closer to Milligan.

"I exorcise you, Most Unclean Spirit! Invading Enemy! All Spirits! Every one of you! In the name of Our Lord Jesus † Christ: Be uprooted and expelled from this Creature of God. He who commands you is he who ordered you to be thrown down from the highest Heaven into the depths of Hell. He who commands you is he who dominated the sea, the wind, and the storms. Hear, therefore, and fear, Satan! Enemy of the Faith! Enemy of the human race! Source of death! Robber of life! Twister of justice! Root of evil! Warp of vices! Seducer of men! Traitor of nations! Inciter of jealousy! Originator of greed! Cause of discord! Creator of agony! Why do you stay and resist, when you know that Christ our Lord has destroyed your plan? Fear him who was prefigured in Isaac, in Joseph, and in the Paschal Lamb; who was crucified as a man, and who rose from death." Sam made the sign of the cross on Milligan's forehead

"Retire, therefore, in the name of Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Give way to the Holy Spirit, because of this sign of the Holy Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ, Who lives and reigns as God with the Father and the same Holy Spirit, for ever and ever."

"Amen," Dean choked out.

For the first time since they'd entered the room, Milligan's eyes opened wide and seemed completely clear. "Please stop" he begged.

The voice seemed different; total unlike the voice that had been yelling at them moments before.

The innocence of the voice drew Dean forward. When he reached Sam's side he was stopped by an outstretched arm.

"It's not Milligan, Dean. It's a ruse. Lord, hear my prayer," Sam said firmly as he patted Dean's chest.

"And let my cry reach you," read Dean.

"May the Lord be with you."

"And with your spirit."

"Let us pray," Sam continued. "God of Heaven! God of Earth! God of Angels! God of Archangels! God of Prophets! God of Apostles! God of Martyrs! God of Virgins! God who has the power to give life after death and repose after labor: There is no god but you. Nor could there be a true god but you. Creator of Heaven and Earth. You are a true king. Your kingdom is without end. Humbly, I supplicate your majesty and your glory: that you deign to free this your servant from unclean spirits. Through Christ Our Lord. Amen."

Once more Sam leaned in closer. "Tell me your name, Demon."

Silent for the moment, Milligan grinned almost insanely at Sam. His head moved slowly from side to side.

Dean stood just behind Sam's shoulder and felt useless. It was a fight he felt he couldn't find his place in.

"Tell me your name!" Sam raised his voice over the muttering and swearing that had begun to come from Milligan. His head was still shaking back and forth.

"Tell me your name," Sam repeated.

Milligan screamed in Sam's direction and spittle flew from his lips. He yanked his arm up forcefully and the strap broke.

"Nooo!" screamed Milligan. He lifted his arm and his teeth clamped down on it. He growled loudly and tore a hunk of his own flesh off.

When Milligan opened his mouth to yell again the lump of meat fell into his lap followed by a waterfall of blood.

As Sam began to pray again, Dean stumbled forward and pulled his cuffs off his belt. He grabbed Milligan's arm. There was blood everywhere and Dean listened to the words Sam was saying as he struggled with both hands to get a grip on Milligan's arm.

The lights flicked back on and Dean slammed Milligan's arm down on the chair so he could slap the cuffs around his wrist.

With Milligan finally secured again, Dean fell back onto his ass and panted. He scrambled backwards and only stopped because he ran into Sam's legs.

He stared up at Milligan and sucked in a breath as a crown of sliced flesh appeared around Milligan's head. Blood began to trail down the man's cheeks, his neck and down onto his chest.

The ring of blood gleamed in the flickering overhead lights and Dean couldn't help staring. "is that a -"

"- Focus," Sam said sharply. "The breakpoint."

The lights flickered again and dimmed once more. The voice that passed Milligan's lips was completely different. "Sam. Sammy."

"Demon, what is your name?"

Dean scrambled to the side and when he looked up he detected a slight tremor in Sam's hand as he held the crucifix in front of him.

"I killed Jo," Milligan hissed. Drool ran down his chin and mixed with the blood that was already dripping from his chin. "It was so easy. She was a pathetic creature; sobbed inside her mind even as she threw her child away."

Sam stared down at Milligan and the room went eerily silent.

Against every instinct he had, Dean stepped closer to Sam.

Milligan began muttering again. The words all ran together; it sounded as though there were different languages mixed together. Dean leaned forward to try and hear.

"I killed Jo. And Sam? I killed your mother too. She's mine and I…enjoy her." A growl sounded thick in Sam's chest and he lunged at Milligan. The crucifix connected with milligan's cheek and the flesh almost sizzled as it rejected the touch. "I touched her too, _Sammy_. Every inch of her beautiful, pale skin. And I -"

"You filthy -" Sam's Bible fell from his hands and Sam swung his fist at Milligan's cheek.

There was _justMy name is Jungler._

Dean crawled towards Sam and hauled himself to his feet with Sam's help.

"What did you hear?"

"His name," Dean managed to say above the cacophony in his head. "Jungler."

"You heard the voice," Sam said. There was a mixture of surprise and sadness on his face.

Very slowly, Sam turned towards Milligan. "Desist. I command you to leave this servant of God."

The room began to vibrate under Dean's feet. It was stronger than an earthquake but everything shook differently. It was almost as though there were thousands of hands banging on the floor beneath them.

There was a huge crash and the windows high up on the wall blew in. The explosion of glass showered down on Milligan and Sam. Dean barely managed to get his arm up to protect his face.

The noise in Dean's head grew until it felt like there was enough pressure to blow his skull wide open. Everything started to whirl around Dean and it wasn't until he felt something cold against his cheek that he realized he was lying on the floor of the interrogation room.

Everything was vibrating, shaking with the strength of what was happening.

"I cast you out!" Sam was yelling and the strength of his words cut through the insane swell of sound in the room.

Dean struggled to push himself up. His arms felt weak and he only managed to get to his knees. Lifting his head hurt and Dean winced as he finally managed to look at Milligan.

The sound vanished. Dean's hands found his head again because of the relief that flooded down over him. The near silence was about the most amazing things Dean had ever heard. Tears of relief welled in his eyes.

"I cast you out," Sam whispered.

Milligan's hand had torn free again from his restraint and Dean struggled to stand up. But when he reached Milligan he froze.

There were tears streaming down Milligan's face and he curled his fingers around Sam's crucifix.

For the longest time the man seemed to breathe in. He sucked air into his lungs as though he'd nearly drowned.

And then he let loose a scream that was agonizingly sorrowful. His blue eyes glistened and for the first time there was life in them.

Clutching his chest, Sam stumbled back until he collided with the wall. Very slowly he slid down until he was sitting on the floor.

Dean leaned down and curled his hands over Adam's bloody shoulders. "Where's my father?"

Adam's answer came out in a hoarse whisper against Dean's ear.

-=-=-=-

There were enough detectives and officers working on opening the storage locker door and yet Dean still pulled against Sam's grasp. A colleague and Sam were holding Dean back away from the potential crime scene. No one knew, after all, what they were going to find inside. Somewhere in his mind, Dean knew that they were right. If something had happened to his father then Dean was too close to it all to be involved.

The door rattled open and inside the dark compartment there was a large white van. There was a painting company logo on the side.

With his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, Dean watched as three plain-clothes Detectives drew their guns and moved cautiously around the van.

It seemed to Dean that it took hours for his colleagues to clear the storage unit. A yell sounded from the until and a uniformed officer ran to the open trunk of his car and returned to the van with bolt cutters.

For a while there were some metallic sounds as the Detectives tried to open the doors of the van.

When the doors finally swung open Dean felt like his heart would crack in half. He was sort of aware of the soothing timbre of Sam's voice but the possibilities of what was behind the door were all encompassing.

Someone yelled something and Dean leaned as far forward as he could. He saw someone unfurl a blanket and then he saw his father's face.

As soon as the hands on his arms loosened, Dean bolted forwards. Legs pumping, he covered the distance in front of him in a second.

When Dean arrived at the back of the van his father was being helped down off the back.

John Winchester was alive. He'd gotten a black eye and lacerations all over his face and neck but his heart was beating and he was in one piece.

Dean skidded to a halt in front of his father. There were hundreds of things he could say but all the words seemed to be plugged up inside.

"I knew you'd find me," John said in a hoarse voice.

Instead of speaking, Dean simply stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his father.

For a moment, John stiffened as though he was surprised and then he grabbed hold of Dean.

Dean wasn't sure how long he held on to his father; he knew he'd never been happier to see the man in his life.

"You smell terrible," Dean said when he'd managed to compose himself.

There was some laughter around them and Dean smiled.

John's brown eyes glistened with unshed tears and a smile warmed his face.

Dean felt the warmth of a familiar hand on the small of his back. When he looked over at Sam his smile grew. "Dad. This is my friend, Sam. Sam? My father."

"Nice to meet you, sir." Sam extended his hand and in spite of everything he'd been through, John shook it firmly.

"Good to meet you, Sam. You're Dean's..."

Sam shrugged and looked down almost shyly.

Still smiling, Dean pulled the blanket tighter around his father's shoulders. "It's complicated, Dad. We'll talk."

Looking more than a little amused, John nodded.

For the first time in weeks Dean's mind was still and silent.

-=-=-=- Seven Months Later -=-=-=-

"I have dirt _in_ my ears," Sam whined as he followed Dean into their home.

"Your fault," Dean retorted. "Shoulda read the exorcism faster."

"Oh fuck off," Sam muttered. He was hopping around as he tried to pull his boot off and Dean couldn't help chuckling.

"Swearing, Padre? Really?"

"Don't call me that," Sam muttered. His boot popped off his foot and he tossed it down. "Makes me feel like God's watching us _all_ the time."

Dean full on laughed and leaned against the wall. "Here I thought you people believed he was omniscient or whatever."

Stretching his arms high above his head, Sam walked over to Dean and leaned against the wall right in front of him. "Dean, there are some things you and I do that God probably doesn't need to see."

"I have the most bizarre conversations with you, Sam."

"Gotta keep you on your toes." Leaning forward, Sam brushed his lips across Dean's.

Just like always Dean felt a little shiver trip down his spine. That hadn't changed since the very first time he'd kissed Sam.

A hell of a lot of other things had changed, but that hadn't. Sam had a way about him that made Dean feel like he was the luckiest man alive. Sam had chosen _him_.

Shortly after Dean had assisted with the exorcism of Adam Milligan everything had come to a head for Dean.

He'd been injured and instead of going to the hospital to get treated he went there to sit at his partner's bedside. Jody's injuries had been severe. She had an additional surgery once the Doctors felt she was strong enough and Dean was at her bedside when she awoke.

Eventually, Sam had turned up. The first afternoon Sam just sat there silently and kept Dean company. The second afternoon they had begun to talk. After a few days Jody had been coherent enough to tell them to _fuck off and go somewhere else for their dates._

They spent a lot of time together as Dean healed. He knew that Sam was a big part of that. Really? Only Sam understood all of what Dean had been through.

The problem was how Dean incorporated what he had been exposed to into his life. It was Sam who helped Dean to understand that there was a role in the police department for someone with an unusual gift. It was Dean who decided that he would work part-time at the department and part-time with Sam.

There had been a steep learning curve for Dean. There were many things he had to _un_ learn and Sam was there almost every step of the way.

It would be a long journey.

Things had also changed for Sam as well. He'd put some more distance between himself and the Jesuits. He'd moved in with Dean after they'd been dating officially for a few months.

Sam often said that he and Dean were exactly where they were supposed to be.

Maybe Sam was right; Dean was pretty sure of it. He just wasn't willing to admit that his entire life had been in the hands of ... fate or something like that all of the time.

"Dad?" Dean called out.

"In here; done for the day and having one of your beers." John's voice came from the kitchen.

Sam kissed the corner of Dean's mouth and headed off to the stairs. "Gonna shower."

For a while, Dean just watched as Sam walked off. There were times when he had trouble believing things had turned out the way they had.

Shaking his head, Dean pushed off the wall and headed into the kitchen.

John was at the kitchen table with his feet up on a chair and a beer in his hand. He looked tired but happy.

After he grabbed a beer out of the fridge Dean looked out the window. The deck John was building was almost finished. There was one corner still be be boarded.

"Looks awesome, Dad."

"Not bad. Should be able to start staining on Monday." John took a long drink from his bottle and looked very pleased with himself.

"What? No work on Saturday and Sunday?" Dean was getting used to his father being around every day. In fact, he'd been enjoying it. When John had found his own house Dean had missed the presence of his father.

Shortly after Sam had moved in with Dean, John had announced he was going to be doing some contract work. Sam had suggested a deck for the back of the house. It had seemed like a good idea to Dean so he'd been his father's first contract.

The deck _was_ a good idea because it had inspired Dean to order a Jacuzzi. Now _that_ would be good.

"How was your job today?" John asked. His bottle clunked on the table when he set it down. He kicked the chair out for Dean to sit on.

It had been a tough one. Sam had been contacted by a mother whose oldest daughter was possessed. The children always really got to Dean. It stuck in his mind and he always had some trouble shaking it afterwards. "It's done."

John knew enough about what his son did to know that meant there had been a good outcome.

"Good," John said. His smile was warm and his eyes wrinkled at the edges. There was pride in his gaze.

Dean smiled and looked down at his beer bottle. "I think she'll be okay. No serious injuries."

Injuries to the people they were trying to help was an occupational hazard.

"I'm glad," John said softly. "You and Sam gonna take a bit of a break? You've been workin' a lot." There were some things about John that would never change; he worried about his son. He didn't seem quite ready to admit it but he worried about Sam too.

"We don't have anything lined up at the moment." Something always seemed to come up though.

"Take some time. Enjoy each other." John's cheeks were a little pink and he looked a bit uncomfortable.

"Aww, Dad. you're sweet."

"Fuck off," John grumbled. But there was a fond smile on his face. He drained his beer and set the bottle down.

For the first time in a while Dean let out a hearty laugh.

"I'm outta here. Tell Sam I said hey." As John stood he tousled his son's hair.

"Have a good weekend, Dad."

"You too."

John headed off down the hall and Dean took a moment to listen to the house. When he heard the shower turn off he headed upstairs.

At the bedroom door, Dean leaned against the doorframe and watched Sam. He was standing at the window with a towel slung low around his hips. His wet hair was swept back off his forehead and rivulets of water were trickling down the furrow of his spine.

As far as Dean was concerned there was never _too much_ of Sam in a towel. "What was I thinking when I left your place that first night?" 

Sam was chuckling when he turned around. He never seemed surprised by Dean. Maybe the house was just a safe place for him.

Sam's fingers combed through his hair then he padded over to Dean and tugged him the rest of the way into the bedroom by his belt. "You owe me a back rub."

The skin on Dean's face heated up. "That's all you want tonight? That's easy."

"Pfft." As Sam walked backwards slowly Dean couldn't help looking down at the cut of his hip bone and the way his abs moved under his skin.

Dean rested his arms over Sam's shoulders. "You tired?"

Nodding, Sam leaned in closer and slid his lips over Dean's.

Heat swelled up inside Dean's chest and he felt a familiar tingle in his spine. "You _too_ tired?"

Sam shook his head slowly then traced the cut of Dean's jaw with his mouth. Teeth grazed over Dean's stubble and the sensation sent gooseflesh racing across Dean's chest.

Dean's hands dragged down Sam's still damp chest. His nails caught on hard nipples and he was rewarded with a gasp against his neck.

"You better be ready to act on this tease." In between words Sam nipped at Dean's collarbone.

"Always," Dean murmured. "I should. Lemme shower."

All Sam did was shake his head as he buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck.

Clearly Dean being a little sweaty wasn't a problem for his partner.

Smiling, Dean pressed his lips to Sam's ear. "Anything for you."

The scary part was that Dean meant it. He could let Sam inside all those walls he'd spent so long constructing. He could feel anything he wanted. It was a good change.

"You need to get some clothes off" Sam whispered. his hands were already slipping under the shoulders of Dean's jacket.The material slid down further and further until the jacket dropped to the floor.

"Get undressed," Sam said firmly. He stepped back and adjusted his towel before sitting down on the end of their bed.

So, that was how it was going to go. Dean smirked even though he felt a little self conscious. Sam knew how to push Dean - test his limits. He'd learned a lot about Dean in the short time they'd been together.

_A lot._

Feeling the burn of _want_ seeping into every pore Dean pulled his t-shirt off. His fingers trembled as he tugged his belt loose and unbuttoned his jeans.

Sam laughed low and rough and pointed at Dean's boots. "Better get those off first, genius."

Because he was still recovering from the ripple of desire that Sam's laugh had sent through his body, Dean took a couple of seconds to catch his breath. He bent slowly and untied his boots so he could untangle himself from his jeans.

When he straightened up the room spun a little. He smiled at the way Sam was admiring Dean's boxers. He _really_ liked the way Sam looked at him.

Dean slid his socks off and then he was naked and stepped in closer to Sam.

Sam ran his tongue along his bottom lip and then slid his hands over Dean's hips. His fingers dug in hard and he tugged Dean in close enough that he could rest his forehead against Dean's rib cage.

"Today was hard," Sam said against Dean's skin.

It was true. It had been a tough one. Dean slid his fingers into his lover's damp hair and combed it back.

When Sam lifted his head back he looked up at Dean. There was a lot of sadness in his eyes.

Dean nodded and smoothed his hands over Sam's hair. "You did good today. We saved a life. We might do it one at a time but it's better than nothing, right?"

It didn't look like Sam was convinced but the heaviness seemed to leave his features. "I'm just glad we can do this together."

"Me, too." There was no question in Dean's mind that he'd made the right choice.

"That back rub you promised me might make me feel better." Sam smiled and it grew when he saw the disbelief on Dean's face.

" _That's_ what you want?"

"Well, not what I _really_ want."

"Good." Dean slid his hands down to Sam's shoulders so he could push him backwards. When Sam's back hit the bed Dean pulled the towel from around his partner's hips.

Dean let his hands slide down Sam's sides until he could grab his hips. He squeezed once then knelt beside his partner and crawled up the bed. "C'mere."

It only took a moment for Sam to move further up the bed. He flopped back down and rested his head on his pillow. "So. We gonna do this?"

Dean laughed. "You make it sound like we're redecorating."

Sam's laughter was a sweet sound. Sam needed to laugh more and Dean planned to make that one of his life goals.

Dean shifted closer and curled his hand over Sam's waist. "One of the very first things I noticed about you when we met was what a crazy color your eyes are."

"Yeah?" When Sam rolled onto his side he was flush against Dean's body.

The sensation almost overwhelmed Dean "Oh."

"Yeah." Sam rocked his hips forward and Dean could feel how hard his partner was.

Their arms slid around each others' bodies and they held on tightly for a while.

Dean could feel the rise and fall of Sam's chest as he breathed deeply. Hot breath warmed Dean's skin where Sam had buried his face against Dean's shoulder.

Heart pounding, Dean ran his hand down Sam's body until he could grab the swell of his ass. He liked the feel of Sam's muscles; it made him feel alive.

Something changed in Sam's demeanor; he tensed slightly and then he rolled them both and pinned Dean to the bed.

The way that Sam kissed Dean was ferocious. It left absolutely no doubt who Dean belonged to. _No_ doubt at all. 

Heat ripped through Dean's body in wave after wave. Sometimes, the feelings he had for Sam left Dean breathless. It was awesome and frightening at the same time.

They struggled for control of the kiss for a while but then Dean relented. He let all the desire in Sam's kiss take him over completely. It was the only time Dean could surrender and it had never happened with anyone else.

Sam's huge hand managed to get hold of one of Dean's hands and then the other. He pinned them to the mattress above Dean's head then straddled his hips.

"God," Dean whispered in between kisses. The room suddenly felt way too small and as though there wasn't nearly enough air to keep Dean alive.

Sam's chest pressed against Dean's and it felt like their hearts were beating in unison. Whenever they were so close together Dean's world narrowed down until it was just wrapped around them. The heat of Sam's body pushed everything else away.

"Hey." Sam lifted his head and stared down into Dean's eyes.

The smile the gaze brought to Dean's face wavered slightly. _Sam._

"You with me?" Sam's smile was slight but full of warmth.

Sometimes, it _was_ too much for Dean. The intensity of Sam's gaze, the possessiveness of his touch, the way that he just let himself go was more than Dean felt able to accept, let alone return.

But it wasn't like that in that moment. He just wanted Sam so much that he ached. It was deep and strong and painfully good. Maybe that was what love was supposed to feel like. Dean had nothing to compare it to.

"Dean, I -"

Straining against the hold that Sam still had on his hands, Dean pushed up and crashed his mouth into Sam's. Their teeth clicked together then Sam tilted his head slightly and the kiss was perfect.

Their mouths moved so quickly it was almost desperate. Sam's tongue pushed past Dean's full lips and swept along his teeth before withdrawing and forcing itself back in.

The taste of Sam was intoxicating and Dean let it wash away all the rough that was left over from the day.

As they kissed Sam finally released Dean. His hands slid down Dean's arms, over his ribs until he was able to slide them under Dean's ass. He pulled on Dean and their swollen cocks pressed together so hard that Dean felt it everywhere in his body.

All the air rushed out of his lungs as pleasure ricocheted through his body.

A moan slipped past Sam's lips and his wet mouth dragged down the length of Dean's neck.

They lay there for a long while; their lips travelling over each others' skin. It was easy to get lost in each other and maybe it was their way of staying grounded. They were grounded with each other.

Slowly, surely, the touches became a little more desperate. The intensity of the kisses increased until they were wet, hard and rough enough to be a little painful.

Sam slid off Dean's boy body and pressed up against his side. His hand swept down Dean's chest and ghosted over his cock.

Dean's body lurched up off the bed. It only took the slightest touch from Sam and Dean was sent spinning. One of his hands grasped at the quilt frantically, the other clawed up Sam's back until he could grab a handful of Sam's hair.

Sam swore softly at the tug on his hair. He grabbed Dean's balls and squeezed them tightly.

"Fuck," Dean whispered. The pain of the pressure sent spikes of insane desire into Dean's flesh. He lifted his legs slightly, twisting a little. He couldn't even tell whether he should pull away or encourage Sam to squeeze even harder.

The tip of Sam's tongue traced the curve of Dean's ear, darted inside then he sucked on Dean's earlobe.

All the sensations tangled up inside Dean and left him lying there on his back feeling weak and breathless.

"I want you," Sam whispered. His lips tickled Dean's ear and Dean could feel a tidal wave of goose flesh tearing down his body.

After a desperate gasp for air, Dean struggled onto his side. No sooner had he turned then Sam was pressed up against his back. His teeth dragged down the back of Dean's neck and he slung one leg over Dean's thigh.

It was just like being wrapped up in _Sam._ The scent of him was everywhere. When their mouths managed to connect, Dean could taste the unique flavor of Sam's skin. When he closed his eyes he could be anywhere. He didn't care as long as Sam's hands were on his body.

Sam slid two cool, slick fingers into the tightness of Dean's ass. Even though it didn't seem possible, even more desire wound its way along Dean's spine.

The stretch of it was strange. The sensation was lost somewhere between pain and pleasure.

Dean pushed back, hips tilted, eyes squeezed shut. He tried to keep breathing, hoping it would keep his heart beating.

Then Sam's fingers slid deeper into Dean's ass. His muscular arm slipped under Dean's head and curled around his neck.

The thrill of being totally in Sam's control took what was left of Dean's breath away. He was shaking and curled his fingers over Sam's forearm.

"Breathe, Dean," Sam growled against his partner's ear.

Trying to follow the order, Dean sucked in a breath. At the exact same time, Sam drove his fingers deeper.

Dean moaned or yelled or cried out; he had no idea. Only Sam would ever know this _free_ side of Dean: the times when he let himself go and let Sam take control of everything.

For a while, Sam's mouth worked on the sensitive nape of Dean's neck. Dean's blood was racing and Sam's lips felt like hot coals on his skin.

Then things shifted again. Sam's arm was across Dean's chest, the other lifted Dean's leg. There was pressure; the cool, insistent slide of the head of Sam's cock. And then his ass was breached and the girth of Sam's cock was easing in.

Dean's nails dug into the tanned flesh on Sam's forearm. He loved the dull throb of hurt as Sam pushed into him. It shoved every other thought out of Dean's mind and made his heart beat so fast it was like it might tear right out of his rib cage and take flight.

Sam was murmuring soothing words against Dean's neck. The hot breath slid along Dean's skin and teased at his _want_.

Dean rocked his hips back and even more of Sam's swollen cock slid into him. He was already so full his body protested but he knew they would get there. His body knew Sam's well.

The hold Sam had on Dean was possessive and gentle at the same time and seemed impossible. Sam guided Dean's leg back over his own and then cupped Dean's balls. His index finger grazed the bottom of Dean's cock and Sam's hips thrust forward.

There was so much sensation at once that Dean felt a little light-headed as he tried to keep sucking in air. _God_ Sam knew how to drive him completely crazy.

Dean heard the world _love_ against his jaw and he couldn't help smiling. He was Sam's.

Slowly, gently at first, Sam began to thrust into Dean's ass. His rhythm was steady. He panted against the side of Dean's neck.

The incessant drive into Dean's body made him tremble and moan. He could feel his balls aching and _want_ was tearing up and down his spine like electricity.

Dean reached back and snatched at Sam's hair. As closely as they were lying it never quite felt close enough to Dean.

When Sam's hand curled around Dean's cock both men moaned. Dean's heart felt like it stuttered around lost in his chest for a while.

The thrust of Sam's hips was harder, faster and his hand stroked the same rhythm over the raw flesh of Dean's cock.

Pleasure was welling up inside Dean's body. He was so close to coming that his balls felt like they would burst.

Sam just kept pounding into Dean's ass; he held on to Dean tightly and Dean could feel the hot sweat that had appeared on Sam's chest.

Dean had been moaning so wantonly he could hardly swallow but he didn't care. Any time he could manage it he rocked his hips back to get _more_ of Sam's hard cock.

Their bodies rocked together and Dean was only _just_ managing to hold it together. But he was losing the battle with his own body.

"Sam." The name slid off Dean's tongue like a sigh.

The response was a frantic thrust forward of Sam's hips. His cock pulsed where it was buried so deep inside Dean.

The sensation, the sound of Sam falling apart as he came, ignited Dean's orgasm. As Sam's hips twitched forward, his cock still pulsing, he stroked Dean through his release.

Hot come splattered up Dean's belly and his entire body tensed up as his back arched.

The waves of pleasure that slammed into Dean were overwhelming. He knew he'd cried out when he came but he wasn't really aware of anything other than his pleasure.

As the last of his orgasm rippled through him, Dean felt his body twitch and shiver. The entire time he could feel Sam trembling against the curve of his body. Time just drifted past and Dean let himself go.

He had no idea how long they'd lain there panting. His body ached everywhere and he felt amazing. He was more relaxed than he'd been in days.

"Still there?" Sam murmured. His mouth was hot and wet against Dean's shoulder and his hair brushed over Dean's skin.

"Oh yeah," Dean answered.

Laughter shook Sam's body then he groaned. He withdrew from Dean and rolled way.

The cool air that replaced the heat of Sam's body made Dean shiver and he rolled onto his back.

When the mattress dipped again a cool, damp cloth wiped over Dean's belly and chest.

With his eyes still closed Dean smiled. "Thanks."

Sam's lips pressed to Dean's for a few moments then slid away. The bed moved again and Dean pried his eyes open long enough to watch his lover walk over to the bathroom and back.

Sam's chest was flushed red, his hair tousled and he was hotter than hell. "Have I told you lately how hot you are?"

"No," Sam said as he flopped down on the bed. "Tell me more."

"Don't want you to get all big-headed," Dean jibed.

Sam rolled over so he could lay his arm over Dean's waist. "I needed that."

"Yeah. Was good." _Good_ didn't quite cover it but Sam knew what he meant. They'd both need to just _be_ with each other. It was like a cure for all the fucked up stuff they had to deal with out in the world.

"You still glad you -"

"Sam!" Dean looked over at his lover. He knew what Sam was going to ask. Was Dean still good with his decision to work with Sam _and_ have a relationship with him. His life had changed so much but it seemed right. Better still it felt right. He realized that Sam had been right so long ago: Dean had a gift and he'd been called to the work they were doing. And as for he and Sam...they'd been meant to find each other.

"I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, Sam. And I'm definitely with the right person." Dean might not be certain about much but he was about his decision to be with Sam.

"Okay then," Sam said with a smile on his face.

There were nose to nose as they lay there and Dean smiled as Sam's fingers stroked his back. Yeah. He was absolutely in the right place.

-=-=-=- The End -=-=-=-


End file.
